For Levi, Born at Midwinter
by slingzarrowz
Summary: Most members of the Survey Corps consider the midwinter gala to be a highlight of the year, a night meant for dancing and spectacle. Petra is ready to get swept away by the excitement. Levi is not. But when questions of his past spring up in the most unexpected areas, the captain finds himself facing monsters more devious—and more human—than he has yet encountered. Rivetra.
1. Chapter 1

In the lord's chamber, time was expected to be on its best behavior. The clock softened its ticking out of reverence for the feeble shape in the bed. After all, time had ravaged this man enough. A withered, age-spotted hand rested atop a velvet quilt. Smacks and grumblings occasionally issued from the invalid's crusted mouth. Lord Viktor Morgenstern, age seventy-nine, dreamed while awake and slept longer with every passing day.

"Pitiful, isn't it?" His younger brother, Siegfried, tsked as he stood beside the picture window, and gazed out at the tree-lined avenue that stretched through the estate's park. Snow had dusted the grounds the previous night. Soon, the gilded gates would open and allow a procession of carriages through, bringing the common people—the _Survey Corps_ , he shuddered at the thought of those madmen. Tonight was the midwinter gala. Below, holly and ivy festooned the grand ballroom. The servants would be decorating with pine branches, crimson ribbon, and the occasional golden bell. The whole downstairs would stink of a forest. Those eccentrics in the Corps would come trouncing in, mud still on their boots and hayseeds in their teeth, amazed at their admission to Wall Sina's luxury. They'd be looking to dance and drink on a nobleman's coin. Only a few, like that Commander Smith fellow, had any touch of nobility about them. And even then, the Commander had the audacity to look for handouts among the upper classes, using these events as opportunities to hustle like some underground conman.

Smith had betrayed his breeding. It was unpalatable.

"Truly disgusting, don't you agree?"

Siegfried asked the question of no one. Viktor was lost to reality, had been for some time.

Still, his elder, idiot brother had _some_ use left. Siegfried slid open a drawer at the writing desk, took out a leather-bound book. Riffling through the pages, he landed upon the one he desired. A smile touched his thin lips.

"Captain Levi," he said softly. "I look forward to speaking with you."

Petra hadn't been a woman in months. That is, she rarely felt like one. This was one of the best reasons to be friends with Nifa; the two were fierce members of squads Levi and Hange, respectively, but when the time came for a party Nifa shed her soldier persona like a secondhand cloak and reveled in everything feminine.

"I wish I had your ability to wear green," Nifa said, sighing as she curled the back of Petra's hair with a hot iron. "We're both redheads, but you're more ginger and I'm more auburn. I know yellow's my color, but it's _so_ hard to make it seasonal for the midwinter celebrations. You know?"

"Yes!" Petra had no idea what she was talking about. "Definitely." She plucked at the forest green of her skirt. The layers of tulle beneath itched at her legs, but whenever Petra turned she swirled. She hadn't swirled since she was a girl. "Thanks so much for lending me your gown, Nifa."

Nifa clucked her tongue as she uncurled Petra with a flourish. In the mirror, Petra found that the curls framed her slight face to perfection. Nifa was a master.

"Please, it's good to get some use out of it. Besides, it's more of an old-fashioned, conservative cut. You know, in the bodice?" Nifa adjusted Petra so that the neckline plunged just low enough for a glimpse of her less-than-ample bosom. "It's more you than me."

"That is definitely true." Petra laughed. Nifa was wearing a gown of deep yellow silk, with slits all the way through the sleeves so that her bare arms flashed with every movement. The skirt was asymmetrical, and hugged her hips. The most cutting edge fashion apparently demanded that women look like their gowns hadn't been properly tailored. Nifa was unusual for a Survey Corps member. She hadn't joined the military out of desperation for a better life. Rather, she was the daughter of a wealthy merchant in Wall Rose. As a result, she was always abreast of the latest looks, and had them sent to her from home. She was handily spoiled, though she never acted like a brat.

"Now." Nifa spun Petra around, and got to work on her makeup. Petra flushed as Nifa unscrewed jars of creams and cosmetics, and began to dab ointments and brush powders across the canvas of Petra's face. "We need to talk about how you're going to make an entrance." She grinned wickedly. "For _him_."

"Nifa!" Petra shrieked.

"Gah, I just smeared lip color over your chin. Don't jerk around like that!" Nifa huffed as she fixed the error, Petra trying her best not to move. But her chin quivered with suppressed laughter. "Like I said. You need to make sure the captain sees you descending a staircase. This inn has a _great_ staircase, perfect for dramatic descents. I checked," Nifa said proudly. "Then, get him a few glasses of wine and slip away to a bedroom. Or a den. Whichever's closer."

"You're encouraging me to break military law. You realize that, right?" Petra grinned, appling her cheek so that Nifa could apply rouge.

"I would break so many laws if I could find out how firm his ass actually is." Nifa whispered the last part in Petra's ear. She nearly leapt out of her chair.

"Stop. I won't be able to look him in the face ever again." Petra was almost crying with laughter now. Nifa and she had bonded during their last year of training, when the girls had circled in their bunk and voted on the most attractive man in the Survey Corps. Commander Erwin had won in a landslide; Mike had garnered a few votes; at some point, Oruo had burst in and yelled that _he_ was the best and could prove it before a couple of the boys dragged him out by the armpits. But only Petra and Nifa had thought that Captain Levi was the most attractive.

"He's so _short_ ," one of the girls had said, lip curled in disbelief.

"No. He's _well-proportioned_ ," Nifa had shot back, and something about that particular phrase had set the whole room into a frenzied uproar. "You're the only one with taste," Nifa had whispered in Petra's ear while a fistfight started between two girls in the corner.

They'd been friends ever since.

"All I'm saying is that most men get weak for a pretty girl in a dress. The captain's a man."

"He's not like most." Petra suppressed a sigh. She'd never seen the captain with any woman—or man, for that matter. It was a well-known secret that Mike and Nanaba had routine assignations, and that occasionally the Commander would head to the interior for a few days to "meet with noble benefactors." But Levi never left the barracks at night, and he did not sleep.

Petra's heart picked up pace as she imagined walking down those carpeted steps to find him standing there, gazing up at her with a soft expression of shock. She didn't delude herself that the captain returned her feelings, but if she could see him lose his composure for one instant on her account, she'd hold that memory forever.

"You're a romantic." Nifa said it fondly. "If I were on his squad, I'd have screwed him by now. Well, no, I wouldn't." She winked. "I know you like him more."

"You're a good friend." Petra grinned as Nifa spun her back around, and her mouth dropped open at the sight of herself in the mirror. Nifa had faintly lined her eyes with kohl, widening them; her cheeks appeared fuller and rosier than ever; her lips were coral and expertly shaped. While Petra stared, Nifa dropped a kiss onto the crown of her head.

"Don't _you_ fall in love with yourself."

"You're an artist."

"I know. Sometimes, I think I'm wasted in the military." Nifa tsked, pinning back a section of Petra's hair and adding a light spritz of rosewater. "Squad Leader Hange is the nicest person in the Corps, but she has the hygiene of a pigeon."

As if on cue, the door to their room burst open and Moblit stumbled in. The poor man was wild-eyed. His shirt was only half buttoned, his pants on backwards.

"The Squad Leader's vanished!"

"Calm down, Moblit." Nifa dealt with the man every single day, and clucked her tongue. "She can't have gone very far." It was a well-known fact that the poor fellow doted on Hange…and had developed a few ulcers from all the stress of being her second in command.

"But she left her underwear in my room!"

"Is _that_ why your pants are on backwards?" Nifa deadpanned. Petra's eyes filled with tears from withheld laughter.

" _Where's the rest of her_?" Moblit shrieked.

"I'm going to deal with this." Nifa squeezed Petra's shoulder, and whispered, "I think he's downstairs now. Time to descend."

"See you in the carriage." Petra smiled as the door shut behind Hange's soldiers, and stood. She twirled once for good measure, grinning as the skirt belled around her. In the mirror, framed by candlelight, Petra Ral knew she was a romantic vision. Nifa's dress suited her perfectly, from the swirling skirt to the bodice lined in green velvet boning. Her shoulders were bare, the neckline a cunning V, the sleeves poofing just a little as they extended down to her elbows.

 _You're a lady_ , Papa would say. She could picture him wiping a tear.

Petra inhaled, placed her hands upon her stomach. What she dreamed of tonight was not quite so ladylike. It wouldn't happen, of course, but still. A girl had desires.

The inn was one of the finest in the capital of Mitras, a "romantic destination for a cozy getaway" as Oruo had said dismissively. He'd been reading an advertisement for it in the paper as they'd stopped to water their horses on the journey. He'd scoffed, handed the paper to Petra, and scowled.

"Why is it _we_ have to stay in the MP barracks," he said, indicating himself and Gunther and Eld, "while you and the captain shack up at a posh inn?"

"We are not _shacking up_ ," Petra had snapped, rolling the paper and whacking Oruo. "It was just luck. The barracks can't hold everyone in the Corps plus the MPs, so some got selected to stay in town."

Of course, Petra was not naïve. Upon arriving, she'd noticed that those staying at the inn were high-ranking officers, their aides, or—to put it delicately—attractive, young female soldiers. Petra didn't understand exactly how the Commander's mind worked, but she could guess. He always brought potential benefactors and backers to his lodgings for a drink after the formal gala event. She imagined it would be easier to show them the Survey Corps' "best face" with lovely girls bustling around. _Look at her. So young, barely twenty. Can you imagine that beautiful face tighten in horror when her ODM hook fails to latch? Faulty equipment, tsk. Your gold could spare her that fate._

Petra knew, without a doubt, that the Commander wouldn't turn into, well, a pimp. The women would be quite safe from anything salacious. However, he knew the men in this town, and he knew what they liked. The captain had said Erwin Smith was nearly too clever for his own good.

Petra stilled her hands and closed her eyes. Yes. The captain was waiting.

She could picture descending the stairs, one hand on the banister, the other lifting her skirt the tiniest bit to avoid tripping. The captain would turn, and freeze when he saw her. His normally hooded eyes would widen. His perpetual scowl would slacken; his mouth would open slightly. He might even stumble a bit, but…no, she quickly erased that image. The captain was a physical genius. It was like imagining one of the walls suddenly tumbling down, an impossibility.

"Time to go," she whispered as she opened the door and left the room. The hallway carpet was so lush that her heeled shoes sank into it, nearly putting her off balance. Striped purple and gray silk papered the walls. The place smelled heavenly, fresh with midwinter pine boughs. Petra gazed over the railing to the ground floor below, now teeming with Survey Corps members resplendent in their absolute finest clothes. Mike was sniffing every server as they passed, "getting a feel" as he'd call it. Nanaba, close by his side, tugged on his arm to get him to stop.

It was so bewildering to see everyone out of uniform. Petra caught sight of the Commander in a fine, tailored suit of midnight blue. She could certainly appreciate why the girls in her training year had been so drawn to him. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the most immaculate cheekbones and blue eyes, he was nearly every woman's dream.

Nearly. Petra bit her lip as she noticed the captain speaking with the Commander. Erwin Smith was one of the few people in the world who could get more than two terse words out of the captain. Levi had his arms crossed over his chest, his inky hair in lank disarray around his face. He cut his hair himself; he wouldn't trust anyone else with sharp objects. He wore an old suit she'd seen before. Fashionable, yes, but utterly black. The shirt was a dull gray, the cravat tied with no special flare. In this bright, bustling sea of party gowns and sharp suits, he looked like an irate raincloud.

Petra felt herself weaken just gazing at him. She grinned. As the captain turned from Erwin and strode towards the stairs, her moment had come. Petra emerged onto the landing, placed her hand on the polished banister, and began to descend. Her heart sped up as the captain tracked his eyes up…and up…a second and he would see her… He…

Yawned. And turned around, scratching the back of his head. Petra halted on the stairs, and in the crowd managed to snag Nifa's eye. The two women had an invisible conversation with their gazes. Nifa all but glared daggers at the captain, as if willing him to turn. Petra felt frozen, until someone knocked into her from behind.

"Hey! Move along," a man with a bored, drawling voice said. Someone rich. Wincing, Petra hurried down the stairs. The moment had been crushed. Damn.

 _I mean, he doesn't even care one way or the other._ Petra's spirits lagged. Honestly, what was wrong with her? The captain didn't share her feelings; she already knew that. His dour expression rarely shifted around her. Levi did not care for her as a woman. There. The truth. It was a punch to the stomach, but… Anyway, she didn't _want_ him to want her. That would make everything so difficult, really. It'd jeopardize their work as comrades, as captain and subordinate. Petra loved her life. It was all so wonderful. As wonderful as being chased by fifty-foot monsters could possibly be, that is. And sleeping in a barracks filled with spitting, cursing men.

Well, at least she had her own room. That part was wonderful.

"Try again at the front door," Nifa hissed in passing. A liveried servant called that the ladies' carriages had arrived. It wasn't an exercise in sexism or chivalry; none of the Survey Corps women had sidesaddles, and riding on horseback with their fancy skirts rucked up wouldn't look right. Okay. Petra straightened her shoulders, and floated over to the captain. He stood still in the crowd, an obstinate rock in the party's flowing stream. Petra drew up behind him, teeth clenched. She could touch him on the shoulder, but that was too obvious.

Instead, thinking fast, Petra cleared her throat. "Captain?"

"Mmm?" Levi turned and looked at her. And he…

Did not react. Not a twitch of the eye or lip. In fact, he looked like he might yawn again.

"You want something, Ral?" He sounded indifferent.

"I…I wondered if you'd be joining us in the carriage." She kept a smile plastered on her face even as she withered inside. Levi looked away, scanning the stairs and the second level. Probably checking for stragglers.

"Fuck no. You women are all soaked in perfume. Gives me a damn headache." Sniffing, he stepped aside. "Off you go."

He was as neutral as any other day. It wouldn't matter to him whether Petra wore a beautiful dress or was covered in a Titan's blood.

Actually, he'd be more interested if she were covered in blood. He hated anything dirty.

"Thank you, sir," Petra said softly. She headed for the door, her heart sinking, and came to a sudden halt when she found Oruo standing there, wearing a look of soft astonishment. In fact, it was the exact look—the widened eyes, the dropped jaw, the wavering balance—that she had wanted from Levi. "What are you doing here?" Petra asked before she could help herself.

"W-We're escorting you. P-Petra. You…you look…uh…" Oruo's usual air of smug superiority had utterly vanished. Normally, Petra would've given anything for that bliss.

"Thanks. You too," she said, nodding at his suit of red velvet and shined shoes. Gulping, Oruo trailed her to the carriage. She let him help her in, the horses blustering up front. Nifa sat across from Petra, their knees touching as the door closed and they pulled away from the inn. Snow fell softly as they took the main road out of town, headed for Lord Morgenstern's residence.

"You look really beautiful," Nifa said, her eyes soft with commiseration.

"Thanks to you." Petra smiled, though she didn't feel like it. Out the window, she saw Captain Levi riding on his horse, his cloak's hood pulled up against the weather. He escorted their carriage as it headed down the cobblestone streets.

Petra wanted to close the window. It was so childish to be upset, but…she wished he had at least noticed her. Stupid, stupid to want something like that. Petra leaned back against the leather cushion and closed her eyes. She jostled side to side as the carriage hit a bump in the road.

 _Don't be a baby. You're going to a gala. The food, the music, the dancing._

And there would be many handsome young men to dance with.

Petra wasn't the sorrowing type. The thought of laughing with friends and dancing with handsome strangers lifted her spirits at once, and she beamed at Nifa, who winked.

"We're going to have a wonderful night," Petra said. The other women she was with, both only sixteen, cheered at that. Nifa laughed, and Petra joined her.

She looked forward to their destination, and gradually forgot about the captain.

Well. Almost.

Levi rode through the night, blood hot in his veins. He cantered beside the carriage, allowing its lamps to light his path through the darkness. He focused on the road ahead, the starlit night, the tips of his horse's ears, the smoke of his own breath in the midwinter chill. He focused on everything but the woman seated in the carriage window. Petra's laughter sounded like a bell, stoking the fire within him.

That girl. That woman. That damn, fucking _goddess._

Levi hissed as his horse stumbled on a patch of ice. Frowning, he pulled up and got the mare back under control. She steadied instantly, and caught up with the coach. Petra leaned out the window, her hair tumbling in the wind.

"Are you all right, Captain?" She sounded frightened.

"Mmm."

He waited until she was back inside, then sped up next to the window. He clenched his jaw, narrowed his eyes.

Levi had been attracted to Petra from the moment he first saw her. For nearly three years, it'd been a minor persistent sensation, a pain right behind his eye. Probably not right to compare desire to pain, but then again, Levi knew little else. Bad idea to want to sleep with a subordinate. He'd nearly passed over her for his squad for that very reason, but had decided that she shouldn't be penalized just because he wanted to get his dick wet.

For two years, she'd served him faithfully. The wanting never went away, but it never got unbearable. The midwinter galas—Erwin's stupid fancy dress parties—were always the worst, because she'd wear a gown and that would inflame his lust, but it was always manageable. She was a girl, after all, barely more than a kid, and he was too old for that shit.

But a couple weeks ago, she'd celebrated her twenty-first birthday. Drinks with the guys on her squad, a small vanilla cake she baked herself, same as every year. But she'd seemed more…well, womanly. Not a girl anymore.

And then this dress. The fucking vision of her.

When Levi had walked to those stairs at the inn, he'd caught a glimpse. Just a minor glance, but it'd been enough. He'd wanted to rush up those steps, sling her over his shoulder, his arm wrapped around the backs of her thighs. He'd wanted to kick open the door to the nearest room and fling her onto the bed. _Captain, what are you doing?_ He imagined her breathless with anticipation, and he imagined pulling up that damn monstrosity of a gown and taking her, her moaning in his ear, her legs locked around his back, her breasts, her cunt, him riding her until…until…

Levi had no idea about the specific mechanics between a man and woman in bed. He got the general idea, but that was it. His imagination always failed when he mentally penetrated her. The picture wasn't so clear; it became flashes of color and sound.

So he'd turned away from the staircase, and by the time he had to look at her for real he'd schooled himself into boredom.

How was he going to watch her laugh and drink and flirt and dance tonight? Levi could not touch her, not ever. She wasn't for him; he was her captain. He wasn't going to embarrass himself or Petra with his clumsy lust, and he wasn't going to wreck her career because he wanted what he shouldn't.

But how could he watch her in any other man's arms, even for one dance? His stomach soured as he rode through Lord Morgenstern's open gate and led the carriage down a damn _field_ , what the hell kind of person owned this much fucking land?

 _Rich assholes,_ he griped.

He was aware of Petra's carriage as they arrived just outside of the giant house's entrance. Servants in black velvet and gold trim arrived to take his horse. He patted the mare's neck, and she blustered and nosed at his hair. "Easy, girl," Levi murmured. He stood with his back to the carriage as it arrived, and as the door opened he tried not to be aware of how near Petra stood to him. She was the first one out, emerging with laughter on a cloud of rosewater perfume. Fuck, Levi's balls tightened just at the sound and the scent of her.

He tried not to be aware as she put one dainty little foot on the carriage step, and—

"Ack!" He felt her slip before he saw it.

Levi spun around and grabbed her, grunting as he bore her weight and broke her fall. Petra clung to his shoulders, her face close against his. He could feel his heartbeat all the way in the tips of his fingers; her breath fanned against his ear. Levi begged the mercy of the three goddesses or some other damn thing, prayed that he didn't start shaking.

He'd never held her before. At least, not like this.

"Captain?" Petra pulled back, her wide amber eyes studying him. Instantly, Levi released her and stepped away. Jerked his chin.

"You okay?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Careful, it's a bitch of a step." He marched back to the carriage and handed Nifa out, then the other two girls (both of whom were giggling like maniacs.) Fine. All fine. He'd covered for himself. Levi half-wondered if he should wait out here and help _all_ the women out of their carriages, just so Petra didn't think she was special. But the four girls were halfway up the steps to the house, so he was spared that.

Tugging on his sleeves, neatening his damn cravat, Levi stalked up towards the front door.

This house was…well, it was certainly a house. A house that could've held about five other houses comfortably. Back in the underground, Levi had seen people sleep twenty to one room; this monstrosity provided shelter for, what, one guy? Maybe a spinster niece? Their dog? Their dog's gardener?

"Fuck these people," he grumbled, and waved off the servant with a powdered wig when he tried to take Levi's coat.

Levi walked through the hallway, following the others into the ballroom. There, he'd do as he always did during Erwin's fancy parties; grab a corner, have a few drinks, and not talk to anybody. Levi maintained his traditions. The place smelled like pine trees. Already, it was too loud.

Levi wondered how Petra would describe this. He'd like to see it through her eyes.

No. Better to act like she didn't exist, the standard way to get through these fucking events. Levi headed off a spotty-faced brat carrying a tray of wine glasses. Snagging one, he drank deeply as he approached the entrance to the ballroom. He could already hear violins whining some fancy concerto.

Maybe he could climb out a window.

Before he could reach the ballroom door, another servant appeared beside him. Levi glanced up at the guy. He wore a plain black suit—Levi appreciated men who didn't get their show pony act on. His cheeks were drawn, his mouth puckered like he had something pungent on his tongue and was trying not to swallow.

"Yeah?" Levi muttered.

"Captain Levi, is it?" The servant arched a plucked brow. "My. It _is_ rather easy to spot you."

"Trust me, pig. It'll be just as easy to forget you." Levi turned to walk off, but the stork-like man hopped in his way. Levi sighed. "You're cutting in on my drinking time. You don't want to do that."

"Lord Siegfried would like a word with you. In private." The man's lips puckered; maybe he'd swallowed that pungent thing.

"Lord Morgenstern?"

"No, Lord Siegfried, his Lordship's younger brother."

"Sorry, I'm not up to date on who's more important than who. Bad habit of mine." Levi glanced at the door, but the sour-faced man seemed like he was gonna start squawking if the captain tried to make an escape. Besides, Levi got the feeling that Erwin might want him to play nice. And much as he wanted to stare at Petra from the safety of a corner, even his desire had to take a backseat to duty.

Even Petra Ral had to come second to Erwin Smith.

"All right. Lead away." Levi stalked after the storky guy, silently calling him every foul name in his impressive arsenal.

They had to hang a right and take the stairs to the second floor, padding down a carpeted hall before arriving outside two large double doors. The stork knocked, and a muffled voice called for them to come in.

"Erwin there yet?" Levi asked. The stork blinked. "The Commander? Tall guy? Eyebrows like caterpillars?"

The stork simply opened the door and bowed him through. Levi walked inside, and searched for Erwin. He was not there.

Levi had been led to a bedchamber. The curtains had been drawn against the night. On the wall, a clock ticked. In the center of the room, a bed with velvet hangings lurked like a creature ready to pounce. In that bed, an old man lay asleep, his mouth hanging open. He snored, twitched, and hacked like a cat with a hairball. Appetizing.

"Uh. Lord Siegfried?" Levi blinked.

"Apologies," said someone by the window. Levi watched as a tall, rail-thin man with curling gray hair and eyes like ash approached. This guy's face was long, the cheekbones sharp as daggers, his nose crooked. But Levi could read intelligence in a person's face, and his gut told him to be wary. "I am Siegfried. That," he said with a nod to the bed, "is your host, Lord Viktor Morgenstern."

"Aha." Levi looked back at the old, senile lump. "He's…fun."

"Indeed. Thank you for agreeing to meet me."

"Well, I thought your boy back there was gonna piss himself if I refused." Levi focused on the gray, intelligent man in front of him. "So. What do you want?"

"Direct, aren't you?"

"In my line of work, it's better to cut the shit."

"I see. That's a very…robust…vocabulary you possess, mister…I'm sorry, I realize I don't know your last name."

He narrowed his eyes. "Levi. Just Levi."

"So, no family name?"

" _Captain,_ if you want to be special."

"I see. I see." The man tapped a finger to his pale lips. Levi liked this less the longer he stayed. "Your abilities, your mannerisms, your language…is it safe to say that you come from the underground, Mr. Levi?"

"Captain," he growled. "I wouldn't assume safety, if I were you."

"Is that a threat? My, my."

"If you have something to say, fucking say it. Either that, or get my Commander in here, he likes playing guessing games with you people. I don't see what I get outta it."

"Captain, you stand to get a great deal." Siegfried looked solemn. "A very great deal."

What the _fuck_ was going on?

"Find the point, or I'm leaving."

"Are you from the underground, Captain?"

It was a sucker punch; Levi winced.

"Why does that matter?" he seethed. He knew the rumors, knew they were true. It was why fathers wanted their daughters safely away from him, no matter what a big damn hero he was for humanity. He'd always be a slum piece of shit. These Wall Sina types looked down on him more than anyone else. And consider, they'd all been neighbors. Levi had grown up under this fancy guy's feet, ass deep in shit. His eye twitched.

"When is your birthday?"

"What is this stupid shit? You're talking more riddles?"

"I will explain all," Siegfried said evenly, "but I need you to answer. Please. I promise, there is no trick here."

Levi paused. He wanted to slam the door and get the fuck out, let Erwin deal with these rich assholes. But…but he found, against his better judgment, he was curious.

"Yeah. I was born and raised in the underground. My birthday's December 25th."

The guy's eyebrows shot up. "Indeed? Then tonight's very auspicious, wouldn't you—"

"Why. Are you. Asking this?" Levi said through his teeth.

"One last question, and once you've answered you may leave if you choose." Siegfried walked over to a writing desk, picked up a book, held it to his stomach. "Was your mother, by any chance, a prostitute named Olympia?"

Everything froze around him. The sounds of the party died. Levi could hear nothing, could see only this man's thin, ambiguous face. It was like looking at the sun and closing your eyes; the afterimage playing against the darkness, that's all Levi saw now.

"How'd you fucking know that?" he rasped.

Siegfried stepped beside the bed. Lord Morgenstern shifted in his sleep.

"Captain," Siegfried said, gesturing to the lord. "Meet your father."


	2. Chapter 2

"You should slow down, Oruo. I'm sure there's more in the kitchen," Gunther said, trying to balance a plate on his knee while simultaneously sawing at a drippingly juicy chop. Petra, Oruo, and Gunther had all occupied the window alcove nearest the buffet table, waiting for Eld to show. Petra eyed the flurry of movement on the ballroom floor. Her feet itched to dance, but…well, when did the Survey Corps ever get _meat?_ She was trying to finish a dish of pheasant and roast vegetables with as much dignity as possible. There was wild boar back there, too, and venison. Not to mention the desserts, chocolate cream and spun sugar, apple tarts…

At this rate, she'd spend the whole night eating. Not that it would be a terrible fate…

Oruo snorted at Gunther, wearing a disdainful expression; he had a medallion of lamb clamped between his teeth. "Ah _uhm_ da beh ay-ur ih da odd," he said, before tearing a chunk off the bone.

"What?" Gunther said.

"He's the best fighter in the squad," Petra translated. She narrowed her eyes at Oruo. "And you are _not._ You're just the biggest show off."

"With the most solo kills." Oruo jerked his chin, much like Levi sometimes did. "Tch. Naturally, you brats would try to tear down a man of my stature."

"Brats? Oruo, we're nearly the same age."

"I'm actually older," Gunther said.

"Tch. Older, but not wiser." Oruo belched. Petra and Gunther glanced at each other.

"I think all the meat's going to your head," Petra muttered.

"Hah, you _wish_ you were…going…to my head," Oruo finished, with a confident flourish of his hand. He knocked a flute of sparkling wine off a waiter's tray, earning them all a dark look.

"Where's Eld?" Gunther sighed.

"Why don't you stop acting so self-important?" Petra placed her hands on her hips; Oruo always made her feel like they were children again playing house, with her as the exhausted wife and him as the annoying combination of husband/baby/dog. "Captain Levi doesn't act that way."

Petra's eyes darted around the ballroom once more, for good measure. Her heart sank when she didn't find the captain glowering in a corner or skulking around in search of wine. Every year at the gala, he'd sneer and scowl and drink and never dance. It maybe wasn't a great tradition, but it was one she enjoyed nevertheless. But they'd been at the ball for over half an hour, and he wasn't here.

"I don't imitate the captain." Oruo thumped his chest. "I think the captain imitates me. He's that impressed!"

"Lamb juice is dripping onto your cravat," Gunther deadpanned. Oruo's shriek was unexpectedly high and shrill. As he busied himself with cleaning up, Petra finally caught sight of Eld through the crowd. She waved, and he raised his hand in reply. Petra grinned when she saw the blonde woman hooked onto Eld's arm.

"Sorry we're late. Katrina's coach was delayed." Eld smiled at them all, and clasped hands with Gunther. Katrina, golden-haired and green-eyed, bent down to hug Petra hello. "I just wish she could stay in the barracks," Eld grumbled, snaking his arm around his fiancée's waist. "I don't get to see her enough." He stood fully behind the girl, both his hands on her stomach. Eld nuzzled back the curtain of hair and murmured the last sentence in Katrina's ear. She giggled.

"Would you behave when we're in public?" she said gleefully.

Petra felt a twinge of jealousy mixed in with deep happiness for her friend. What would it be like to love someone that loved you back, and to be so…openly affectionate? Petra didn't mean to slide into melancholy, but her eyes drifted to the floor. The captain would never feel as she did, and even if by some wild chance he could…in such a case, they'd have to choose between being comrades and lovers.

Petra blinked. _Not that there's any chance of you being_ lovers _. Petra! Honestly._

She was knocked out of her thoughts—literally—when Oruo stumbled into her. Petra cursed, flailed her arms, and steadied herself against the wall. "Oruo, if you tore this dress, you're dead," she snapped. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing! Just showing Eld and Katrina my spin for the final dance. Isn't that your favorite, Petra?" He lifted an eyebrow. "The Marian Waltz?"

Oh _no._ The Marian Waltz was the absolute highlight of the midwinter gala. Named for one of the three goddesses, it was a beautiful combination of classical waltz with more, well, intimate steps. The man lifted the woman, spun her in a circle; the woman hooked her arm around the man's neck and drew their faces close. It was the most romantic tradition of all. Petra had danced it with Gunther last year, both of them grinning throughout at the silliness. Every year, Petra strained to see if the captain would dance. Every year, he did not.

But if Oruo were practicing…then…

"What do you say?" Oruo's eyes were half-lidded. He leaned in. Petra didn't know whether to say nothing, laugh, or push him over and run for it. "This year, how about you and m—"

And then, somehow, Oruo bit his tongue. Hard.

"How? You weren't even on a horse. You weren't _moving!_ " Eld sounded exasperated. Gunther offered a napkin, which Oruo held to his lips while whimpering. "Is that _blood_?"

"Maybe your tongue's too big for your mouth," Gunther observed.

"We should get some ice." Eld paused. "Eventually."

Katrina grabbed Petra's hand. "Come on. Don't look back. _Hurry."_

Stifling giggles, the two women pushed through the buffet crowd and made it to the edge of the floor. There, finally, they collapsed against each other in laughter. Petra's stomach hurt; her eyes blurred with tears.

"Th-that was mean of us." She wiped her cheeks. Katrina shook her head, hair tumbling around her shoulders.

"I couldn't watch something that tragic happen to you. You need a different partner for the Marian."

"I'm sure I'll find someone." Petra sighed, looked around. Lord Morgenstern's ballroom was a sight to behold. The walls were all mirrored, reflecting the colorful panoply of dancers. Almost everyone was dressed in some shade of crimson or forest green, with a splash of gold and silver sprinkled throughout the crowd. Katrina stood out in a rose-colored dress, but she was the type to automatically draw every admiring eye. Several chandeliers cast buttery light from the domed ceiling. On a raised platform musicians played, guiding the dancers in a spirited folk number. Large fir trees bright with glass bulbs and candles stood sentry in every corner, and fragrant garlands of winter flowers hung from the ceiling. It smelled like a forest in here, and Petra thought of the forests beyond the wall. Forests filled with titans, danger…freedom. The scent of pine stirred in her feelings of the most exquisite joy and terror.

Katrina squeezed her elbow. "I have to get back to Eld. Don't worry; I'll give Oruo a couple glasses of wine. He'll be asleep in no time."

Yes, that would be classic Oruo. "Thank you." Petra winked, and went back to studying the room. Many young men were lined up on the opposite side, and she bounced on her toes. Petra loved to dance, and never had any real opportunity. She needed to savor every chance she got; after all, this could be her final gala. As a Survey Corps member, you never knew which expedition would be your last. The thought used to fill her with panic. Now, it barely registered.

 _Should I really feel that way when I'm only twenty-one?_ Petra shivered. Sometimes she wondered if they were all freaks in the Survey Corps, really. The idea of that made her feel very lonely.

Adrift in a sea of strangers, Petra looked up and caught someone's eye from across the room. He was a tall, young man. Quite handsome, with reddish-brown hair and broad shoulders. There was no mistake; he was staring intently at Petra. As their gazes met, he nodded. He smiled. He…

"Hello, Levi Squad person!" Petra jumped in surprise as a tall, gangly woman in a dark blue gown nearly collapsed in front of her. Hange Zoë towered over Petra, arms akimbo, a giant grin on her face. She adjusted the goggles over her nose. Apparently, she never took them off. Maybe not even for sleep. "Er, Petra. Petra! How are you?"

"Ah, I'm fine, Squad Leader." Petra let Hange shake her hand. The older woman nearly took Petra's arm off in her enthusiasm.

"Sorry! Part of an experiment." Hange tilted her head to the side, swinging her unkempt ponytail of brown hair. The warm scent of wine clung to her. "This year, I thought I'd ascertain how many alcoholic beverages I need to consume before unlocking maximum social dexterity. I believe I may have achieved the desired result already!"

"That's wonderful." Petra smiled. "How many drinks?"

Hange held up four fingers. "Three!"

Moblit skidded to a halt beside them, puffing his cheeks out. Sweat glistened on his forehead; his collar had been loosened. "Squad Leader. You must drink coffee!"

"Next up: to achieve successful seduction." Hange clapped Petra on the shoulder. "Wish me luck, Oruo!"

"I'm Petra."

"Yes!" Hange barreled off, making a beeline for a man and woman a few feet away. The man was tall and looked bewildered; the woman, blonde and even more bewildered. Moblit whimpered, gazing at Petra with lost, puppy dog eyes.

"She still won't put her underwear on!" he moaned, and scampered after his boss.

"Okay," Petra said to no one, and shook her head. She glanced back to that handsome young man, only to find he'd disappeared. She sighed, ignoring the slight freefall of her stomach. The captain still was not here, and Hange had chased her most viable dance partner away. She'd looked forward to this gala for months, and now—

"May I join you?" a low voice asked. Petra turned and gazed up into the eyes (a startling green) of the man from across the room. Her heart sped up. There was no denying how attractive he was. His square jaw was clean-shaven, his nose a distinguished aquiline. The cut of his gray silk suit was expensive; Nifa could probably tell her exactly how much it cost. Petra's toes curled in her shoes. She felt her face heat.

"Ah. Yes," she said at last, grateful she hadn't stammered.

"Would you like a drink?" His voice was musical, she thought. Not as musical as the captain's, but…

 _Stop thinking about him._ Petra forced herself not to scan the ranks for Levi yet again. Instead, she focused on this new, extremely handsome, very nameless person.

"Yes. Thank you," she said. With a mere nod, the man summoned a waiter. He plucked two flutes of sparkling wine, gave one to Petra, and clinked glasses with her. Petra took a deep swallow, the alcohol warming her gut and buzzing in her veins. Her heart fluttered once more.

"I don't know you. If you're not from around here, you must be a soldier." He gave a shining smile, white with teeth. "Garrison?"

"Survey Corps."

His eyebrows lifted. "Dangerous work. I'm impressed."

He hadn't said 'too dangerous for a cute little thing like you', a line Petra had heard before. She perked up.

"And what do you do?" she asked softly. Taking another sip for courage, she guessed. "Are you…a lord?"

He grinned wider. "Kind of a lord. Karl Morgenstern, at your service." He bowed at the waist, and kissed Petra's hand with a quick brush of lips. A respectful gesture, but romantic as well. Petra felt her blush deepen.

"Morgenstern? So this is—"

"My family house. My father's." He drank. "It's a shame you didn't go into the Military Police; we might have seen one another around."

"I could have joined the MPs." Why not brag a little? She'd graduated at the top of her training class, after all. "But I wanted to see what was beyond the walls."

"And do you regret such a daring choice?" Karl asked. He seemed genuinely interested. His eyes scanned her body, and Petra could feel his approval. His notice of her in that dress. It was the look she would have dreamed of, done anything for, from…

She swallowed, and put the captain aside. He wasn't here. He didn't care.

"I…I try never to regret anything." She raised her eyes to his. "The only thing you can do…is to make the best choice you can, and live with the consequences."

Karl was still, and Petra wondered if that answer had been too serious. But then he tilted his head back, and laughed.

"Now I have to claim the most interesting woman at this party for a dance." He took Petra's empty glass, handed it off to a passing waiter. Then, he extended his large hand for hers. "May I have the honor, Miss?"

She hadn't given him her name. She swallowed, glanced to her left to find Oruo with his arms crossed, glowering at her. Beside him, Eld and Katrina beamed, and nodded vigorously. _Yes. Do it._

This young lord-to-be wanted to dance with her. He thought she was _interesting._ And she knew, without looking, that the captain would still be absent. Sighing, Petra placed her hand into Karl Morgenstern's.

"Petra Ral." She smiled. "It would be an honor to dance with you."

Erwin Smith was surrounded by money. He did not see lords and ladies in fashionable attire when he gazed around the ballroom. He saw great, fat sacks of coin. He'd just finished having a chat with Lady Schellhardt, an especially overdressed, gaudy sack herself. He had given this lady the perfect impression that he'd been at all interested in her, her husband, their five wolfhounds, their two ginger cats, and a new solarium they were building on their lush, extensive grounds. Once a year, Erwin smartened himself up and courted these disgusting bags of cash, hating himself with a smile on his face.

The Survey Corps needed extra donations from interested backers, or they would never have the necessary equipment. Erwin had whispered that to himself in the mirror tonight while buttoning his shirt and cufflinks. Perpetually underfunded, the Corps had to beg in order to stay afloat. The fact that they had to constantly scramble for new soldiers—their fatality rates were better than they had been in the past, but still too high—did not help matters.

"Did you squeeze any juice from that overripe piece of fruit?" Dot Pixis appeared at Erwin's elbow. The man was old, wrinkled and bald, yet had the most amazing, youthful blue eyes. Some said Pixis was eccentric; occasionally, Erwin thought he might be the last sane man on earth. They had their backs to the room, so no one could even read their lips. Erwin fought against a chuckle.

"Lady Schellhardt is always generous," he said evenly. He sipped his whiskey; it was, of course, excellent. "She says she must be, on account of my mother."

Pixis tsked. "Ah, well-born mothers are excellent things to have. Or, sometimes, to lose."

The corner of Erwin's mouth twitched. "I had to hear once again how she'd "married down" with my father. But at least it was a love match, the lady added."

Erwin hated being in Wall Sina. Hated it with every pulse of blood in his body. After his father's death he'd been raised by his aunt and uncle in Mitras, instructed in the rigors of being a gentleman. He had become adept at concealing his thoughts from a young age, hiding his beliefs, his hopes, his passions and his terrors. Sometimes, he wondered if he was even real. If he even knew what he wanted.

No. He wanted one thing, one clear thing. An answer to the mysteries of their world.

No small request, that.

"Looks like your Survey Corps girls are turning the younger gentlemen's heads," Pixis noted, giving a wry laugh. He pulled out a silver flask and took a pull. There was no explaining to the Garrison Commander that he could have all the expensive liquor he wanted tonight. He stuck to his bathtub gin.

Erwin gazed at the dance floor. Indeed, he saw Nanaba taking some Lord's clumsy son for a waltz. Nifa had scored a handsome blond fellow. Hange…well, Hange appeared to be dancing with two people, a man and woman. He shook his head in bemusement. There was even Levi's girl, the little redhead.

Erwin's eyebrows lifted. She'd taken their host's son's attention. Impressive. Instantly, his mind whirred with how to turn that to the Corps's advantage. Nothing despicable, of course. But…he had to consider these things.

Erwin felt less guilty about sending his men to die in a titan's jaws than he did using them as bait for the idle rich. At least out in the forest, they knew who the monsters were.

He smiled to think how irate Levi would be to discover Erwin embroiling young Ral in his schemes. _Erwin, why do you bow to these pigs? Let them wallow in their own rich person shit. That's all they're good for._

The captain was the bluntest, least charming man Erwin had ever known.

The best man.

"Well, here comes Dok." Pixis stoppered his flask. "I'm off to drink alone, and then try to tempt some pretty young thing onto my knee. With my luck, I'll bag her grandmother." Pixis clapped Erwin on the shoulder.

"Try not to drink all of it," Erwin said lightly. Pixis whinnied a laugh as he strolled away, and Erwin gave the first genuine smile of the night. "Nile. Always a pleasure."

"Erwin." The two men clasped hands in greeting. "It's been too long. If you'd ever get out of titan country for a few days and come to the interior—"

"Well, I'm here now." Erwin tried not to feel saddened whenever he saw Nile. Sometimes he succeeded. They'd been two young men, still just boys, when they'd dreamed of a world beyond the wall. But plans had changed. Nile's dreams had changed.

The Military Police, of all things. Erwin had noticed those men and women tonight, how they hovered around the wealthy guests, not their fellow soldiers in the Garrison or Survey Corps. Sometimes, uncharitably, Erwin thought of the MPs as the controllers for the rich. Attack dogs in service of the elite.

But Nile hadn't become an MP for power. He'd done it for a much more ridiculous, delightful reason.

"Tell me," Erwin said, "how's—"

The question lodged itself in his throat as a tall, blonde woman in an elegant blue gown sidled up. She bowed her head, and extended her hand.

"Hello, Commander Smith." She gave the impression of a smile.

"Hello, Marie." He took her hand, kissed it. The blood rushed in his ears, and he wondered if he was imagining things or if he really smelled rosemary on her, the herbs from the garden in her apartment window, the slant of afternoon light on her wooden kitchen table. Canvases stretched across easels. Rumpled sheets. He straightened at once, and gazed at her left earlobe. That made it easier to concentrate. "It's been too long."

"Yes." She turned to Nile—to her husband. He, lucky fool, looked at the woman in blissful adoration. "Darling, can we get something to eat? I'm starving."

"Of course. Erwin." Nile nodded. "Talk later?"

"Until then." Erwin did not look at Marie as he bowed one last time. He closed his eyes as he felt the air move in her passage, as he believed he could smell that rosemary in her hair even though it was a delusion. Had to be.

He started at the slim press of paper in his hand, but did not give her away. Erwin curled his fist, and waited until Nile and his wife were gone before he opened the note.

 _One hour. The library._

 _Please._

Erwin hissed in a breath as he crumpled the paper and shoved it into his pocket.

"Commander Smith?" someone said behind him. Erwin turned to find a storklike servant in black livery worrying his thin hands. Erwin frowned; this man looked pale as the underside of a mushroom.

"Yes?"

"Lord Siegfried requests your urgent appearance." The man worried his hands harder. "I can't stress how important it is, sir."

"What's wrong?" Erwin wasn't overly concerned. Likely some of his soldiers had grown rowdy and urinated in a priceless vase. That had happened before. Twice.

But Erwin froze at the man's next words.

"It's Captain Levi, sir."

"Viktor and I often spent time in the underground," Siegfried said, pacing over to the window and peering behind the curtain. Maybe he was checking to see if it was snowing. Maybe he was doing anything he could not to look at Levi's damn face.

 _Meet your father._ The words were still bowling around his skull. Like this was natural. He supposed it _was_ natural to have a father, and to meet him at some point.

"As I was saying, Viktor has always had…appetites. He was always a man of action. I'm more of an observer myself." Siegfried petted the book he was holding like a beloved dog. Levi's eyes tracked to the thing. "He frequented the underground brothels, but then he discovered Olympia." Siegfried nodded. "I must say, Captain, the resemblance between your mother and yourself is astounding."

His mother, laughing while she hung out the laundry. Hiding tears from him. Lying in bed, all her breath gone, still as wood, cold as clay.

"How?" Levi croaked. Good, he was regaining some of his damn mind. "How do you know I'm…his?"

"Viktor spent…a great deal of time with Olympia in the winter and spring of 815. Thirty-four years ago. And as you've said, Captain, you were born—"

Levi snorted. "Look, not to be indelicate, but my mother was _popular_." He gritted his teeth. Popular to normal people meant men fawning over Kuchel, taking her to tea, kissing her glove. Popular to Levi meant shrieking bedsprings and communicable diseases. "Before she had me, I'm sure she was doing even better business. So no matter how many times your brother over here shot his load, we can't know for a fact he was the one who knocked her up. After all, there's no family resemblance between us. I look like my mother, after all."

Levi wasn't used to talking this much. His breathing felt weird.

"An astute observation, Captain. However, I did not fully clarify the transactional nature of their relationship." Siegfried cleared his throat, tugged his collar with a long, pale finger. "My brother was so taken with young Olympia that he removed her from the brothel. From the end of January until the beginning of April of that year, she resided here. With us. She was given her own room, and kept on hand for my brother's…personal entertainment."

Levi could not feel his toes or his hands any longer. No. No. He was no scientist like Hange, but he knew how basic biology worked. His mother had gotten pregnant with him sometime in March, and if she'd spent the entire month here, with only one customer…

 _Shouldn't this make me happy?_ After all, when he'd been living on the streets of the underground with a thousand other scummy urchins, hadn't they all had half-hearted fantasies of their parents being rich, powerful nobility? Someone who could, with a snap of their fingers, elevate their kids to the topside, to fine meals and soft beds? How many kids had dreamed of something like this? And for Levi, it was looking like a possible reality.

And to have a father…any father…was more than he could've ever hoped. But…

 _Kept on hand for my brother's personal entertainment._ His mother, so young, thinking she'd escaped that underground hell. Living here with a window and sunshine, sucking a rich older man's dick, so fucking grateful to have been saved. And then when the bubble went off the wine, the guy had her carted back to the underground, tossed into the refuse heap with the rest of the disposables. Hatred, pure and undiluted, coursed through Levi's veins and pumped in his heart. He clenched his fists.

"So what? When he found out she was pregnant, he threw her away?"

"I assure you, if Viktor had guessed Olympia was carrying his child—"

"What? He'd have married her? Made me his heir? How fucking stupid do you think I am?" Levi knew his voice was getting loud. Siegfried winced. But he didn't care. "I'd have been a scrape job. They would've cut me out, then gotten rid of her. Don't pretend otherwise."

Siegfried was silent for a long moment. "This isn't how I wanted our first meeting to proceed," he said softly.

"And her name was Kuchel, all right? Not Olympia. Kuchel." He didn't know why that detail mattered so much to him, but he'd put his fist through the wall if he had to listen to this thin, gray man say Olympia one more time. "Besides, how do I even know this is true?" His thoughts stopped colliding with one another; he was able to think. "Yeah. All I've got to go on is the fact that you knew my mother's fake name and her profession. People know who I am. Finding out that information'd be tough, but not impossible. This is a trick." Relief flooded his body. "Some play you're making I can't even understand. I should punt your balls into your throat for that, but Erwin'd get pissy. Whatever you want, you're not getting it." Levi turned for the door. "Be fucking grateful I'm letting you off this easy."

"Captain, there's something you should see before you leave." Siegfried sounded like he was trying to soothe a kid throwing a tantrum. Levi gritted his teeth. "Your feelings are entirely right. This situation is absurd. Only an imbecile would make such a claim without proof. But." He sighed. "I have proof, Captain."

Almost against his will, Levi turned to find Siegfried behind him, the book open and in his hands. Levi looked down at the page…and his mouth fell open.

"Oh," he whispered. Without thinking, he took the book and cradled it. There she was. There she was.

Someone had sketched a perfect likeness of his mother. Her raven hair fell before her eyes. A smile shaped her mouth. One hand rested on her collarbone. At the lower right hand corner of the page, someone had written _Olympia, Mar. 16 815_

"She was an exquisite woman," Siegfried said.

"Where'd you get this?"

"My brother was a prolific sketch artist and diarist. There are shelves of his writings and drawings in the library below; a whole life encompassed in work." Siegfried tsked. "To think he's now an invalid. There's a dark poetry to it, I suppose. Such a mind reduced to nothing."

His mother. Levi had not seen her in thirty years. But he knew that this was her, captured perfectly. He walked away from Siegfried towards the bed, still looking at that portrait. Levi didn't know how to feel. He didn't know what to do.

He, who always knew exactly what needed to be done. He glanced quietly at the old man in the bed. _Father._ The idea of it…

Half-dreaming, Levi turned the page. Perhaps there'd be more…

"Ah, Captain. Wait. I should—"

Levi froze, because his mother _was_ on the next page.

He didn't stop to take in every detail, but what he saw seared itself into his brain.

Kuchel, blindfolded. A gag in her mouth. Her spine contorted, her bare breasts pushed forward. Rope tied around her body, holding her arms out on either side.

On animal impulse, he flipped the page and found Kuchel still naked, sprawled out on her back, a man's head nestled between her spread thighs.

Levi dropped the book to the carpet. Siegfried collected it with a soft sound of apology.

"As I've said, my brother had…appetites. He sometimes had his servants pleasure her, though they were not permitted to finish inside—"

"Shut the fuck up." Levi clutched the side of the bed to help him stand, and gazed down at Lord Morgenstern once again. This time, the man's eyelids flickered. He snorted, then appeared to snap to consciousness. He turned rheumy eyes to Levi, and focused intently. The light of wonder sparked in his expression.

"O-Olym-ya," he slurred. A clawed, arthritic hand trembled as it reached for Levi. "Oh. Ohlympa."

No. No. _No._

"Captain. Please remember that, as a member of our family, you stand to gain a great deal. Would it be possible to make peace with the manner of your conception?" Siegfried spoke softly, like he was cutting out the corners on a sharp deal.

Levi snatched the book from his hands. For a second, he thought dispassionately about using the thing to beat the old man in the bed to death. Instead, Levi calmly walked to the window, thrust the curtains aside, opened the glass, and tossed the book to the snowy yard below. Siegfried said nothing. Finished, Levi faced him.

"Stay the fuck away from me, or I swear to the walls or the goddesses or whatever the shit you believe in that I'll tear his head off and toss it out after the book." He said it as cool as if he'd asked for the time. "Think I'm lying? Find out."

With that, Levi strode out of the room and took the stairs to the first floor. Music bled through the walls. The murmur of the ballroom crowd remained a constant background noise. Levi stopped at the bottom step, and for one instant clung to the banister.

"Please," he whispered to whoever would listen. His face crumpled in pain. "Please, no."


	3. Chapter 3

Petra knew that she should stop dancing with the same man. Lord Karl had claimed her for a waltz and a mazurka, and the musicians were about to strike up a quadrille. Breathless, Petra felt her heeled shoes touch on the ground. She giggled, putting a hand to her cheek. _I'm flushed_.

"One more?" The young lord held out his hand, took hers. Petra felt how small and delicate her fingers were in his grasp.

"I think people are talking," she whispered. Her eyes scanned the crowd. A collection of young, noble-seeming women in particular were glaring at her. In unison, they snapped open fans and fluttered them like a chorus of angry butterflies.

"Let them. Please. One more, and then I'll turn you loose." Already, Karl was leading her back onto the floor.

"Will you?" Petra curtsied as the music struck up, and Karl bowed.

"Well. I make no promises." He grinned, and the dance began. As they spun around one another, Petra watched the people. She saw Nifa, waving excitedly, and she saw Oruo scowling and snarling something at Gunther. She saw Commander Pixis over by the buffet table talking with Commander Zackly; both older men looked bored. But the one person she never saw, ever, was the captain.

 _When are you going to let this idiotic dream die?_

Sighing, Petra turned back to her partner and let him carry her off to the center of the floor. Wherever he was, Captain Levi was undoubtedly thinking of anything but her.

He watched her from the shadows, tucked away in a doorway off to the side of the room. Levi let his eyes scan over Petra in that green puff of a dress. When the young, handsome, tall (fucking _tall_ ) man lifted her into the air, she threw back her head and laughed. He ignored the fucker dancing with her, and let the sight of her soothe him. She was a balm, a kiss on the bruise of his soul. Always had been.

Levi pictured walking up to this pretty boy and shoving him away from Petra. He pictured taking her in his own arms, and whispering to her that this all was his. Levi did not delude himself; he was no young woman's fantasy. When they'd first met, he'd got the impression Petra, well, liked him. (Stupid girl.) Maybe the title of Humanity's Strongest could get him some action if he wanted, but he had nothing to offer a woman beyond an experimental night of fun. He was short. He was ugly. He wasn't good with words. He didn't know how to fuck. He had no money. He had too many nightmares.

But he entertained the idea of suddenly owning this palace of a house with its legions of servants, all the gold and patterned china a woman could want. He imagined offering it to Petra, offering her something to make up for the disappointment a man like him naturally inspired. She was no gold digger, no mercenary; no, she was the sweetest thing alive. But if he could give all of this to her—silks, furs, servants, position—then she wouldn't feel she'd wasted herself on some grub from the underground. No woman in her right mind could want to keep him, especially not an angel like Petra. She had so many opportunities.

But if he could just give her something to make up for her time. Her body. Her love.

He pictured taking her by the hand and drawing her into a private corner. _Touch me_ , he could hear himself breathing those words into her ear. He could feel her unbutton his shirt, slide her soft palms up the rigid line of his stomach. Levi could practically sense the gentle way her fingers skated across his chest, the sweet quiver of her mouth against his neck. His pulse against her tongue. Not even sex, no, just touch. He had not been touched, hugged, caressed since he was four years old. Sometimes, when he'd been twelve and living on the streets, he'd crouch against a wall and run his hands up and down his arms, trail his fingers against his wrists and palms, not to get warm, but to feel touch again. That was his life, craving someone else's skin against his own, being repulsed at the very notion of it in the same breath.

He'd bury her against him, feel the silk of her hair on his cheek. Her hands would explore him, stroke him, let him feel alive in his own skin just once. Just one time. Touch. Touch me, Petra. The words hovered on his lips, alone here in the dark.

Sometimes he heard her telling stories to the guys in front of the fire, late at night. Goblin stories, about lecherous little demons that snatched up young girls and trapped them in their thorny lairs. He thought of that, idly, picking her up and placing her in a tower here, locking the door and peering at her through the keyhole. His. All his. Seeing her laugh in another man's arms, it made him think murder. It made him hate himself even more than he already did.

"Hiya, Levi!"

"Shit. Fuck. Hange!"

The shitty four-eyes stumbled into the doorway, dragging a man and a woman behind her. The pair of them gazed at the gangly brunette with gleaming, awestruck eyes. Hange grinned at him.

"We're looking for a private location in which to conduct many limber—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Just go."

"Miss Hange, tell us more about your…experiments with the titans," the girl whispered. She molded herself against Hange, arm wrapped around her waist. Hange dragged the young man by his wrist, and led both of them down the hall.

"I will! There are _so many_ things I've learned about titan anatomy!" The three soon disappeared down the corridor. Levi rubbed his forehead, and went back to gazing onto the floor. He'd watched Petra like a creep for two dances now. He'd never wished for Oruo to come in and sweep her away before, but he wished it now.

She'd probably end up dancing the Marian with this puffed up boy; he knew how she loved that one dance. Sometimes he'd catch her practicing it in the months leading up to the gala. She was as light on her feet as you'd expect an expert in ODM and aerial combat to be. Occasionally, Levi wanted to sit her down with a cup of tea and ask, why? Why would someone as bright, as sweet, as friendly, as kind, as fucking optimistic as she ever want to actively court death? Why go beyond the walls? Petra was open-minded, sure, but she wasn't batshit like Hange. She didn't have grand dreams like Erwin. She wasn't irreparably broken, like him.

So why?

Maybe he was afraid she'd really meant it during recruitment several years ago, when she told him she'd joined the military to live up to his example. If she died, it would be on his head. Her blood on his hands.

But if he could keep her in this beautiful, gilded cage, maybe she'd settle her wings. Wings of fucking Freedom, shit. Then he'd never have nightmares again where she screamed his name helplessly as a titan swallowed her whole.

"Captain?"

Levi turned, found the storklike servant watching him. The thin guy blinked, followed Levi's former line of sight. Raised an eyebrow. Levi inwardly swore; he didn't want anyone to have an inkling of his affection—bordering on obsession, if he was honest—for his subordinate.

"Yeah?"

"Lord Siegfried—"

"Had better remember what I said," Levi growled. "About heads getting torn off."

"Lord Siegfried is with Commander Erwin in the study. They've both requested to see you."

Erwin. _Fuck._ Siegfried was good. Levi would give him that. He somehow knew that Levi could not, and would not refuse his Commander anything. Levi cast one last, quick glance at Petra. She was fine. She was dancing.

She was happier without him. One day, maybe she'd find a handsome young man and leave Levi's service, have a life out in the country with love and brats and everything.

Maybe she'd met that perfect, handsome specimen tonight.

 _Leave her, you goblin piece of shit._

"Fine. Take me to Erwin," he muttered.

"Captain. Thank you for coming." Siegfried didn't get up from behind his monster of a desk. The study smelled of vellum and mothballs. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting warped shadows along the walls. Marble busts of crooked nosed men scowled down at Levi from the shelves. The books looked thick and impenetrable; maybe it was having learned to read late, but Levi always felt vaguely threatened by large books. Erwin Smith stood before the desk, his presence the one thing combating the encroaching dark of this unhappy little room.

Erwin wasn't threatened by books, by lords, by anything. Seeing the Commander in his element here, Levi realized just how out of place he himself was when titans and violence weren't involved. He sidled up next to Erwin, content in his place. The Commander's shadow, where he truly belonged. What he was, at heart.

"Lord Siegfried has informed me of your conversation," Erwin said. His face did not betray emotion, but the flick of his eyes told Levi of secret anger. "I've expressed to him that I do not care for his…theatrical methods."

The older man held up his hands, a look of apology on his face. "I realize now that I was in error. My apologies, Captain."

"Fine. Thanks. Erwin, is that it?"

Siegfried gave a cough of surprise. "You're certainly informal with your address."

"Well, no one needs to explain shit to you." Levi fixed the man with a poisonous glare. "If that's all?"

Erwin sighed. "I would, however, like for you to listen to Lord Siegfried for a few minutes more. He has raised some rather interesting points."

Levi clenched his jaw. If it were Zackly asking him, he'd turn and walk out the door now, but it was Erwin. Every thought in the giant, golden-haired man's mind was five steps ahead of whatever Levi could envision. If Erwin wanted something, he usually had a reason, and it often was a good one. A gamble, though. Erwin was a notorious gambler with both lives and souls.

If he weren't also a genius, and the only real hope humanity had, Levi might resent that.

"Okay." Levi nodded. "Go ahead."

"As the Commander has said, I did not conduct this properly in any way. I do apologize sincerely for that." Siegfried rose from his seat, the firelight hollowing out his cheeks and shadowing his eyes. "But you see, I must move quickly and quietly. It's the only chance any of us has in this house."

"Well, that sounds bad." Levi folded his arms. "For you."

"My brother has succumbed to an illness of the brain. The doctors say he shall never recover, and for the past three years I have served as his regent, if you like. I daresay that under my watch, the Morgenstern family has prospered, and so have the vassals upon our estate. I know you consider me to be a spoiled, idle member of the elite, Captain. I can tell that much from you." The man clenched his fist, banged it on the desktop, upset a few pens. "But this estate and its people have been my life since I was born. If I'd been the eldest son, there never would have been such…well, such depravity. My brother was a great man in certain ways, but he was an immoral one." Siegfried shook his head. "A true libertine."

"I'm hearing a lotta big words, but not a ton of point."

"Levi," Erwin said quietly. That was all it took to silence him. Levi crossed his arms.

"My brother is dying, Captain. The doctors say he has six months left, at most."

"So?"

"So. Once he passes, I do not inherit the estate. That privilege goes to his firstborn and only son, Karl." The man narrowed his eyes. "And Karl is…well, he makes his father appear an innocent lamb. The man knows no limits in regards to his perverse inclinations. He's a demon, Captain. He torments peasant women simply because he can. He gambles, is violent. He appears affable and charming—he truly is his father's son—but there's a vicious nature that lurks beneath that handsome façade."

"Okay. Sounds like a bad guy. I still don't—"

"Karl is twenty-five years old. You are thirty-four. The elder brother."

"A bastard. _If_ that's even true," Levi growled, although it was looking more and more likely. Even he conceded that.

"The Morgenstern family has close connections with the king. With your record of service, it would be only too easy to have you recognized and legitimized." Siegfried quirked a smile. "Levi Morgenstern. It has a fair ring to it, wouldn't you say?"

Levi didn't answer that. "So you want me to be lord so that Karl doesn't take over and destroy everything?"

"Precisely."

"No offense, but I'm not exactly noble material. I'm not a fancy guy. Me running an estate is… I kill titans. That's it. I don't know people, and I don't like them all that much, either. Well, not your kind of people." Levi had seen too many thin, hungry faces in the underground. Too many men drunk and despondent, too many women bruised and taking whatever they could get. It didn't have to be that way. It was because of people like the Morgensterns that life was what it was within the walls.

"I would be only too happy to continue my role as regent, with your approval. Captain. Consider." Siegfried moved around the desk to stand in front of the two soldiers. "As one of the most powerful lords in the interior, you would be able to line your Survey Corps's coffers. Your Commander here would no longer need to come to our galas with hat in hand, begging for table scraps to clothe and equip his men and women."

Levi's gaze snapped to Erwin. The Commander didn't react, but he could feel the desire coiling off the man. Levi knew in his marrow how much Erwin hated cozying up to these people, how he hated laughing on the outside while scowling inside. To spare the Commander even one instant of pain, Levi'd walk naked into hell itself.

But this…

"You would be able to furnish your soldiers with the best, and I would continue to run the place with an even hand. The vassals on this land would prosper. And perhaps, with a seat at the king's council, you could advocate for the unfortunates in the underground. Make a strong, knowledgeable case for them."

His mother had been taken here, enjoyed, and tossed away like a used prophylactic into a trash heap. Levi's hands fisted. No more girls with their innocence ripped from them, no more boys beaten and hungry in the streets. Maybe he could… Maybe he could make them…

"The world is yours to take," Siegfried said, his voice a whisper. "Will you not allow me to give it to you?"

"I."

Levi turned from Erwin's side, went over to the window. He watched the torches flickering in the night. The moon illuminated the snow. All these lands, his. The house, his. The people, his to protect. The Survey Corps, cared for. Erwin happy. Petra…

His. Maybe. He felt like he was standing on a mountaintop, Siegfried beside him, the old man gesturing out to the snowy fields before him, the moonlight on the forests. All yours. I'll give it to you. The name. The money. The woman.

But his mother…

 _Personal entertainment._

"I can't," he said gruffly. Levi watched the grim ghost of his reflection in the windowpane. "I already know who my father was. Probably."

Kenny, picking him up and carrying him out of his mother's cold, dark room, her body stiff under the blankets. Kenny, his wide-brimmed hat, his bloodstained coat, his long, unsmiling face. Teaching Levi to hold a knife. Levi, trotting at the murderer's heels like a dog. Levi, naturally gentle, naturally soft, punching and kicking when instructed, beating the sensitive boy inside of him over and over until eventually the kid shriveled and died. Making himself into Kenny's image, talking like him, scowling like him, though never laughing and charming others in the same way. Kenny backhanding Levi, punching him in the mouth on occasion. The only touch he knew. The only touch he wanted. Just to please the man who'd saved his life, who _had_ to be his father, because "I used to know Kuchel" could only mean one thing when your mother was a whore. Levi'd often thought he and Kenny looked a little alike, somewhere in the set of the eyes and the jaw.

Even if it flew in the face of biology and logic, Levi couldn't be Lord Morgenstern's kid. He wanted it to not be true in such a deep, painful way that he felt he could rewrite the language of his blood, scrape off the lord's name and scribble something new in there.

"Captain," Siegfried began. Levi turned, glowered at him. Didn't look at Erwin.

"I'm not his son. Even if I am, I don't want to be. At least if I were the son of some underworld piece of shit, it'd be no hard feelings. Right?" He wasn't expressing himself well—he was bad with words—but he did his best. "Because it was fucking awful in the underground. Guys get drunk and screw because they've got nothing left to live for. Nothing to give a woman besides ten minutes in bed and a squirt to finish. But if some fancy ass lord drags a girl out of that hell, fucks her, and then dumps her…when he's got all the money in the world, could give her some help…that guy's a pig. A pig like all you nobles and your fat, greedy… I'd rather be some whore's and murderer's kid than that guy's upstairs."

"I am offering you something that benefits all of us. If you refuse, Karl will become the lord and do great damage to the people living here. He will come after you in any way possible if he knows the threat you pose to him. You have been dragged into this merciless game, Captain, and you cannot simply quit playing. You must win, or he will. Do you understand?"

"Well, he's lived twenty-five years without knowing about me. He'll probably be good to go for another twenty-five."

"And the people he'll hurt once he's in power? Can you live with those souls on your conscience, Captain?"

Levi sank into the black mire of his thoughts. He'd seen so many comrades off to their deaths. Furlan and Isabel, his fault, his fault for leaving them surrounded by titans in the rain. His pride, their downfall. So many deaths on his head, witnessed by him. He wanted to give all their deaths meaning, so they didn't suffer in this shit world for no reason other than bad luck.

More equipment for the Corps. A friend in power for Erwin. The people on the land and below the streets living better with someone on their side for a change.

But still…

Levi had lived most of his life by his gut. If a deal had felt wrong in the underground, if a patch of forest had been too quiet in titan territory, he responded according to his instinct. This…this all sounded too good to be true. And Levi hadn't believed in fairy tales since he was three years old.

Somewhere, there was a price. And he'd bet it was heavy.

"Fuck you. Fuck your offer. And fuck your brother," he growled. Without looking to Erwin for approval, he shoved open the doors and left. Levi paced down the hall, then stopped and waited. In short order, Erwin Smith materialized.

"Well." Erwin raised a huge ass eyebrow.

"Well. Sorry," Levi mumbled.

"Don't be. This situation is madness. You should be deeply suspicious of such a ludicrous offer." Erwin stroked a finger along his chin, the telltale sign that he was deep in thought. "I want to know what Lord Siegfried truly stands to gain. There's no way his altruism can be so…all-encompassing."

"Think what he said about that Karl guy is true?" Levi rubbed his temples; his head felt like it was gonna burst.

"I should speak with Pixis and Nile, see if they've heard talk. The great downside of the Survey Corps is that we spend more time with titans than people."

"Kinda what I like about it," Levi grumbled. Erwin smiled, shook his head. Levi watched him, looking for the first cue to act or react. "Tell me something, Erwin. If there were no strings attached here…would you want me to say yes? For the Corps?"

Erwin did not respond for a while. "I'm only human, Levi. I want to gain as much as I can for as little as I can give in return. The thought of never having to beg at one of these _events_ again is intriguing. If there were no strings," he said, turning his gaze down, "what would you say?"

"I'll go into hell for you. I'll lay down my life for you, and I'll bleed every last drop in my body out if you ask for it." Levi narrowed his eyes, felt something move in his soul. "But…I can't disrespect her memory. That's not mine to sell."

"I see." Erwin didn't need to ask who "she" was. "I can appreciate that. Well. At the very least, let's see what we can find out about this Karl Morgenstern."

"He around tonight?"

"Mmm. Last I saw, he was dancing with Petra. He should be still in the—"

"Tall guy?" Levi felt gooseflesh erupt all over his body. "Reddish hair? Handsome?"

Erwin blinked. "Yes. How did you—"

"Erwin, I need to go. Now."

The Commander did not question Levi when he had that look in his eyes; Levi knew that he wore it now. "Go, Levi. Find me later."

Levi stormed down the halls, his heart a hammer in his chest. _If Karl suspects you… Peasant women… Vicious… Sadistic…_

"If he does anything to her," Levi breathed, the words not even a whisper. He tore into the ballroom and scanned the floor. The pair wasn't among the many dancers. He found the rest of his squad over by the side of the room, chatting amongst themselves. But Petra wasn't there.

 _Where the fuck is she?_

And then, Levi caught sight of that green dress, her red hair, her little white shoulders. Karl Morgenstern had a hand on the small of her back, and he guided her through a doorway that led outside.

A curtain dropped behind them, and they were gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Petra felt so light on her feet that she barely noticed the blister forming on her heel. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from Nifa's clip, and clung to her cheek. She extended her arms by her sides, giving the impression of a bird about to take flight; secretly, she hoped that the thin layer of sweat under her arms and at the crooks of her elbows would dry. Her heart thrummed.

"I think I'm ready for a break," she gasped, and giggled. Karl led her to the side of the dance floor as they applauded the musicians. That had been a fine waltz.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked.

"Yes, please." While the lord (Petra still couldn't quite believe she'd danced _four times_ with a lord) went to find refreshment, Petra patted her hair and waited in a clutch of women wearing organza and tulle skirts. They all belled against one another—Petra loved the look of her dress, but moving in it was a beast. She struggled to turn around, and knocked into someone's arm. She gasped as the man jerked backwards, and sloshed red wine onto his jacket. "I'm so sorry!" Petra cried, but the man waved her off.

"Don't worry, that's what happens when you drink at parties." He smiled, and Petra jolted with recognition.

"Gregor?"

"Petra?" The man—still a boy, really—squinted and then laughed. Petra slapped her forehead, mouth agape. "So the titans could spare you long enough to come to the interior?"

"I'm just amazed the MPs let _you_ have a night off." She grinned. "I didn't see you at the last two galas."

"Yeah. I finally climbed high enough to force some rookie to take over my responsibilities. These days I mostly drink and play cards."

"What you always wanted, isn't it?"

"You know it."

Gregor had been in Petra's training corps year, and usually sat with her and Oruo and Nifa at mealtimes. The three had tried to convince him to follow them into the Survey Corps, promising adventure and total mayhem. ("That's not as tempting as you think it is," he'd told them.) But Gregor's eye had always been on the Military Police, and after Wall Maria fell he'd grown only more adamant about it.

But Petra had missed him regardless. "Where are you stationed these days? Stohess?"

"Actually, I—"

As Gregor spoke, Karl appeared by Petra's elbow, two cups of rum punch in his hand. "It's crowded in here, isn't it?" he said, sidling between the two of them and cutting Gregor off.

At the sight of the young lord, Gregor snapped to attention. He went rigid as a toy soldier. "Apologies, sir."

Petra blinked. She'd seen MPs get formal around the top ministers in the interior but…why would he be so deferential to a lord's son?

"No apology necessary," Karl said. He gave a cup of punch to Petra, and smiled down at her. "Would you like some air? It's getting stuffy in here."

"Well. Yes," she said, because it _was_ stuffy, but…she hadn't seen Gregor in so long, and—

"Find me later, Pet." Gregor made a swift salute to Karl. "Sir."

"Thank you." With that, Karl placed a hand on the small of Petra's back and helped guide her across the chaos of the floor. She fell silent, the punch warming the palm of her hand, her thoughts wheeling. Karl hadn't been rude just now, but Petra tried to live by her instincts, as the captain had instructed. Something pinged her about that encounter, and she couldn't quite articulate what it was.

"Here." Karl pulled back a velvet curtain, revealing a large glass door. He deftly opened it so that a gust of snow-scented wind enveloped Petra. After a sweaty hour of dancing, it felt like paradise. Petra stepped outside, her heels a crunch on the light dusting of snow. Karl followed, closing the door. The party was loud behind them, but muffled, as if Petra had stopped her ears with a pillow. They'd stepped onto a terrace. To their right, a table and two chairs bore pristine domes of snow. To the left, a large brazier glowed with coals, which sent a shimmer of hot air into the night. Petra drew near, letting it warm her exposed back and shoulders. Her cup of punch steamed like an exhaled breath. Sipping, Petra let it settle in her stomach. Karl smiled beside her.

"So." Petra stopped. What should she say to this man? Her father had sold vegetables; aristocrats were far outside of her usual social circle.

"So. Tell me about yourself, Miss Ral." Karl turned, fully blocking her view of the secret glass door. "I want to know everything about you."

"Why are you so interested?" Petra tried to keep her voice playful, but it sounded flat to her ears.

"Does a man have to explain interest in a beautiful woman?" Karl's smile was all ease. "Especially one that's so brave?"

"So I'm interesting because I go outside the walls and face enormous, naked monsters?"

"That's one way of putting it. But the military isn't compulsory. You chose it, and in addition you chose the Survey Corps. In my experience, most of the soldiers who join the Corps are…fascinating individuals."

Petra thought of Squad Leader Hange and the way she lunged at titans as if they were overgrown puppies in need of a cuddle.

"That's sort of true," she admitted.

"But you're so lovely, so sweet. I've never before met a woman who's so utterly sensible yet throws herself into danger. As I've said, you're beautiful; a girl like you wouldn't need to join the military. You could easily find a man to take care of you."

Petra's jaw tightened. She didn't know what she disliked more: the belief that attractive women lived only to snag a man, or that unattractive ones' sole purpose was to become cannon fodder. "I don't think you understand women," she snapped.

Karl bowed his head.

"I've no doubt I'm ignorant. Please." His soothing voice never rose or hitched in self-defense. "Enlighten me."

She worried her bottom lip. Petra did not want to share her first memory of Captain Levi with anyone. The first time she'd seen him ride through the city gates, the tumbling feeling of elation, the giddiness that had sent her spinning through the streets. She had joined on his account, but not because she wanted to make him fall in love with her. To Petra, he was the pinnacle of what a man could be, and she'd wanted to become a person that such a man could admire.

Maybe not as a woman—he'd never want her—but as a soldier. To be someone brave and strong in his eyes, that was her goal.

"I was curious," she said at last. "And it pays well. I could send money home to my family." She stared into her punch. A moment passed in awkward silence.

"Have I offended you?" Karl asked softly.

Petra winced. Honestly, leave it to her to botch a romantic moment with a handsome, interested lord. "No. Sorry, I suppose I'm…I'm cold," she fumbled.

"Then let me warm you," he murmured. Karl moved in front of her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. Petra realized how fragile she must feel; little did the lord know that she was aware of every tender, sensitive spot to kick on a man. Petra blinked. Why was she so _jumpy_?

"Th-thank you." She swallowed her punch, draining the cup in one go. She let Karl take it from her hands and place it on the balcony's railing. Then, he tipped her chin upwards with one finger. Petra's gaze met his. He was electrifyingly handsome.

"Does this feel good?" His hands slid down to her back. He pressed her against his body, and bent his head. His breath, warm with brandy, sweet with cherries, tickled her cheek.

"I." Petra's voice caught in her throat as Karl's lips trailed delicately across her cheekbone. He cupped the back of her neck as he lifted her, so that her toes barely touched the ground. His mouth moved to close over hers.

This was the culmination of every young woman's fantasy: to be kissed on a balcony by a lord. But Petra's being rebelled against it. It wasn't even the thought of the captain—Petra had taken lovers before, she knew how it felt to give her body while her heart belonged elsewhere. Choose the path you'll regret least, those had been the squad's words, drilled into them over and over with every swing of the blade or latch of the ODM hook. Petra knew somewhere at the center of her heart that she would regret this kiss more than she would its absence.

"No." She turned her lips from his, went rigid in his arms. Her hands pressed against his shoulders, and she shoved away from him. "Stop."

Karl released her. Petra turned for the door, but he blocked the way.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you." His tone was so neutral it was impossible to guess his thoughts.

"No, it's my fault." Maybe it wasn't, but apologies came automatically to Petra in circumstances like this. She winced. Too late to take it back. "I…I thought this was something I wanted. Besides, I'm needed inside."

But Karl did not move. "I don't think Captain Levi needs you right now."

Petra grew quite still. "How did you know I served the captain?"

"Oh, you told me on the floor." He raised an eyebrow.

"No. I didn't." She suddenly became hyperaware of everything around her—how far she would fall if she jumped over the balustrade, how high she would need to kick if Karl made a move. "You knew I was in the Survey Corps before you came to dance with me. Didn't you?"

"I admit I inquired about you. You're so delectable, how could I not?" His eyes, she noticed, appeared flat and glassy now.

"Then why play like you didn't know anything?"

"I didn't want to alarm you. Obviously."

"Well, now I'm alarmed and I want to go back inside."

"Of course. But I still want to know more about you, Miss Ral. I want to know all about your time working for Squad Levi. The captain must be a fascinating individual."

Why? Why would some rich young man in the interior corner her to find out about the captain? Petra shifted her weight, getting into fighting stance without drawing too much attention to the fact. Large skirts were good for one thing at least; he couldn't see what she was doing under her gown.

"I don't know anything about Captain Levi. He's very secretive," she muttered through clenched teeth. Karl had backed her away from the brazier, and she was starting to freeze. "Get. Out. Of my way."

And then he advanced upon her. Petra was ready to kick—

The door flung open, and Captain Levi bounded onto the terrace. The three of them stopped. Petra realized that she was pressed up against the balcony, one of Karl's arms around her. It had to look like they'd been caught in a furtive embrace.

Levi stood up straight, and yanked at his lapels to get himself into order. He glared at Karl, and then at Petra. She felt like she'd fallen into some surreal dream, halfway to a nightmare. Quickly, she left Karl and moved to stand beside her captain.

"Captain? Are you all right?"

"Squad meeting. Now." He looked from her to Karl and back again. "Think you can tear yourself away?"

"Yes," she answered at once, all but melting in relief. If he hadn't come right now, she would have been forced to physically defend herself against this young lord. A court martial might have waited for her at the end of it.

"Captain Levi?" Karl extended his hand. "I'm Karl Morgenstern. It's an honor to meet—"

"Thanks. Petra. Let's go." Brusque even for him. The captain stepped back into the ballroom, Petra right at his heels. She didn't even look at Karl as she followed. If all went well, that was the last she'd see of the man, tonight or ever. Instead, she turned her eyes to the captain. He parted the sea of people with remarkable ease, cutting through with her in his wake. Petra had to hurry to keep up; the captain's legs weren't long at all, but he was moving as fast as he could.

"Thank you for coming to find me," she said as she trotted alongside him, nearly upsetting a pair of girls as they took to the floor, hand in hand.

"I didn't come to find you. I was looking for you." Was there a difference? She didn't ask. "Thought you might've gone upstairs for some fun." He spoke hurriedly, his voice flat, his eyes duller and more hooded than usual. "Wouldn't that've been a thing to walk in on?"

"Captain, I wouldn't do that here." Petra felt stung, and flinched.

"Why not? Anyone with sense would. You two seemed to be getting friendly back there."

"No. No, we weren't." She all but spat the words out. "I need to tell you something, sir. He—"

"Oruo. Gunther." Levi stopped short, jerked his chin. The two men were standing alongside one another by the dessert table; Oruo had his mouth full of whipped cream, a plate in his hands.

"Yeh thir?" Oruo tried saluting with the plate. A dollop of cream splashed on his jacket.

"Clean that off. Then we have a squad meeting. Where the shit is Eld?"

"Dancing, sir." Gunther glanced at Petra, a question in his eyes. She shook her head. The chill from being outside—and what had happened—hadn't yet left her, and she rubbed her arms. "Captain, is something wrong?"

"I don't wanna repeat myself. Get out there and drag Eld away from his girl."

"Sir, can't we wait until the dance is done?" Gunther spoke levelly while Oruo frantically dabbed at his coat. "Katrina never gets to see him, after all."

"She can see all of him after we talk." Levi jerked his head. "Do you wanna make me do this myself, Gunther?"

"No, sir." Gunther left while Petra huddled beside Oruo. She couldn't understand why the captain seemed to be deliberately avoiding her gaze.

"Captain, that man on the balcony was asking about you. He wanted—"

"He wanted a couple things." Levi sniffed, crossed his arms.

"I didn't do anything. I—"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Petra." Finally, his tone gentled a bit. He looked at her briefly, but her relief was pure and full. If he was looking at her, he wasn't angry. Gunther arrived with Eld, Katrina trailing after them. Petra gave her a brief, commiserating look before the four soldiers had to trudge single file behind Levi like a parade of ducklings following a surly mother. They wove through the crowd until they were in the hall, and soon after that they entered a parlor painted baby blue, one appointed with antique, claw-footed furniture. Oruo collapsed onto a chaise, frantically dabbing at his jacket. Eld stood before the captain, hands behind his back.

"Sir. What's wrong?" Eld asked.

Levi leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms. It was his habit in their briefings to slouch and fix them with a predatory glare, as if daring someone to challenge him. Gunther had once described it as an older lion appraising his cubs.

"Listen. I can't go into detail right now, because I don't have all the facts myself. But I need everyone on their guard tonight. Something's going on around here."

"Something like what, captain?" Eld voiced what they all were thinking, as usual. Oruo, meanwhile, had moved on to using his handkerchief and whimpering to Petra about how he needed some water for the stain. She elbowed him.

"Does it have something to do with Lord Karl, sir?" Petra asked. All the guys' eyes turned to her. Eld was frowning. "I was just on the balcony with him."

"That guy you were dancing with?" Oruo asked, sounding snappish. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Him. He wanted to know all about Captain Levi. He didn't explain why, but—"

"Thanks, Petra." The captain sounded genuine, but firm. "Look, this doesn't concern all of you. Just stay together, and try not to talk to any of these shit-nosed asskissers if you can help it."

"Is this something to do with Commander Smith?" Petra asked. If there were any intrigue happening, the Commander would have to be at the center of it.

"No. It's me. Look, I don't want to go into it because it's boring as fuck." Petra would bet money that wasn't true. The captain shrugged. "But it's my own problem. I don't want the four of you getting dragged into it."

Dragged into it. If Karl had been asking why she was on Levi's squad, then clearly the captain was his target. It made sense that he'd focus on one of them. After all, their squad spent more time with the captain than anyone else, except perhaps the Commander.

"So here's the deal. You all stay together in the ballroom. You don't leave, not even to take a shit."

"Sir, we can look after ourselves." Eld's mouth turned up at the corners; he was trying not to laugh with disbelief. "What are a couple of fancy lords next to titans?"

"I don't know what they are." The captain looked so deathly serious that Eld's smile faded. "All of this aristocracy shit is out of my experience. You're only truly covered—"

"When you know your weakest point," Petra finished. She felt herself flush as the captain looked to her, but the corner of his mouth lifted in that micro-smile of his.

"That's it. Good. You all remember the shit I teach you."

"When this is over, will you explain everything, Captain?" Eld, of all of them, seemed the most irritated, though he was attempting to hide it. Well, Petra imagined that he and Katrina had planned to find a spare bedroom at some point. This was going to get in their way.

"Do you want me to answer to you, Eld?" Levi paused, tracked his gaze to each of them in turn. Then, his shoulders relaxed by a degree. "I'll explain more. Maybe not all of it, but enough."

"You don't have to explain anything to us, sir." Oruo sneered at Eld, who rolled his eyes. "Your orders are good enough for me."

"You still have cream on your jacket," Petra muttered. Oruo's squeal was unnaturally high.

"Okay. Good meeting. Oh, one more thing," the captain said as they all rose to leave. He fixed his gaze on Petra. "Ral, you only dance with these three the rest of the night. You don't go anywhere without one of the guys."

Petra felt as if the floor had dropped away beneath her feet. "What?"

Gunther snorted in disbelief. Oruo perked up, and frowned.

"Captain, is that fair? Petra never gets to dance, after all."

"She can dance with the three of you, like I said. No one else."

"Oh. Well, that's all right, then." Oruo adopted a pompous look, one that he probably thought was a killer imitation of Levi. "We'll take good care of her, sir."

" _What?_ " Petra tried to make sense of her clashing thoughts. "Captain, why am I the only one who needs to be looked after?"

The captain merely regarded her with those narrow, hooded eyes. Not a single muscle in his face so much as twitched, and he didn't say anything.

Petra felt as if she were being pitched to and fro in some kind of emotional maelstrom. The horror and the burning shame of being treated like a child in need of protection, mixed with the wild, exhilarating sensation of hope—that she was precious to the captain, that seeing her near another man had sent him into a fit of jealousy. Petra swallowed; she needed to navigate these next few minutes with all the guys on her squad watching as well. She walked around the chaise, picking over Oruo's stupid feet as she did so. Standing before the captain, Petra tried to read his expression, but she would have better luck with a weatherworn statue of old King Fritz.

"I…I know that you want to protect me," she began, but stopped when Levi snorted.

"I don't want to protect you, Petra. That's the point." His words were terse, his tone flat and edged in disappointment. "I want you to behave like a level-headed soldier, but I come back after one hour and some creep's got you cornered on a balcony with his arms around you."

"His arms were around you?" Oruo shot to his feet. Everyone ignored him.

Petra's vision rocked. She knew she'd be flushed by now; she always turned red when she got angry. Calm. She needed to remain calm. Yelling at the captain was not only a great way to be put on latrine duty for the next three months, it would also prove his point: that she was a foolish girl who needed looking after, whose emotions led her.

"With all due respect, sir. We were dancing, and then he invited me out for a drink. None of that is outrageous behavior at a party. When the situation started to turn, I was ready to leave. When you found us, I was about to kick him in the balls."

The three guys couldn't help snorting with laughter at that. Even the captain had to raise an eyebrow.

"That's a vivid picture."

Petra exhaled. "I don't need special treatment."

"This isn't personal, Petra. We're dealing with a bunch of manipulative assholes right now, and going after the youngest, smallest member of my squad makes logical sense to pricks like that. You're also the only female. That doesn't help."

"Then if you'd just tell me what to look out for, I could handle it myself." She was not going to shout. She was not going to shout.

"It's like I said." His eyes grew even duller. Sometimes, Petra wondered if the captain ever felt anything at all. "You're the youngest. You're just a kid. You know titans, but you don't know men. Not these types of men."

Petra felt as if he'd kicked her in the stomach. She feared she'd lose her balance. A kid. That's how he saw her; not a woman, not a soldier, but a kid. A child. It hurt to know that he did not see her as desirable, but it was agony to think that he viewed her as anything less than an exemplary soldier.

"Captain. This isn't fair." Eld stepped up beside Petra, practically bristling. "The three of us know as much about aristocratic life as Petra does. She doesn't need to be treated like this."

"You're right. It's not fair." The captain glared at Eld. "But if these last couple years should've taught you anything, it's that this world's fucking cruel. If these assholes are targeting my squad, Petra is the one they'll go after."

"Why are they targeting us at all?" Gunther asked.

"I told you. That's on a need to know basis right now. And frankly I'm getting fucking tired of having to explain myself to my subordinates. You do as I say."

"Technically, sir, we're off duty tonight." Gunther spoke so softly that Petra almost thought she'd imagined the words.

"Technically, yes. But ask yourselves if you want to disobey me right now."

The heavy silence in the room proved the captain's point. Levi cleared his throat, but Petra only stared at the carpet. The shame of it all. The embarrassment.

She wasn't one of the guys now, not a member of the squad. He'd singled her out as the weak link.

"I'll make it up to you, Petra." He sounded indulgent now. Paternal. She winced. "I have to look out for my squad. That's all this is."

"You're not my father." The words were out, harsh and biting, before she could stop them. Petra heard Oruo yelp. Wincing, she bowed her head. "Captain. I'm sorry, but—"

"You're right. I'm not your father. But he'd want me to keep you safe."

She pictured Papa shaking hands with the captain, the pair of them chortling over how delicate Petra was, the little angel. Fatherly. That was how Levi felt about her, if he felt anything at all. She was going to throw up soon, and then his only reaction would be at how unhygienic it was.

The captain continued. "I know you like these fancyass parties. I'm not saying you can't talk to anyone else. Look, I realize these are the kinds of places that girls meet men."

"She doesn't have to meet men if she doesn't want to," Oruo spat, before somehow tripping over a corner of the rug.

"All I mean is if you were looking for the future Mr. Ral here, no one'd blame you."

The captain had meant it as a joke, but Petra had finally had enough. Her gaze locked with his, his flat, gray eyes giving nothing away. Nothing, because he felt nothing.

"I'm not going to get married." She frowned. "I want to stay in the military, on your squad. I want to be there until I—"

"Until you what?" Finally, a change in that placid, expressionless face. Levi's thin browns furrowed. "Retire at a ripe old age? You want that life, you join the Garrison, not the Survey Corps."

"I don't understand. Do you mean you don't _want_ me on your squad?"

"Wait. Wait." Gunther sidled up next to Petra, clearly sensing that the conversation was about to plunge into a wild ravine, one with dark crevasses from which they couldn't return.

"Of course I do, or I wouldn't have asked for you in the first place. But I'm looking at what the Corps needs for its next mission. What I need to put Erwin's plan into action. Do you all understand?" A darkness seemed to stretch across the captain's face, though he did not move a muscle. "I'm not looking out for your futures. You all need to make the choice you'll regret the least, but that shit's on you. Not my job."

"So you're saying that we're all just tools to you?" Petra forgot to add 'sir', but she was too violently angry to care.

"You're in the military. You chose this life because you wanted to serve humanity. Did you think that'd make you special?" He glanced at each of them in turn. "I'm fond of you all." He said it like someone'd punched him to get the words out. "I am. If I weren't, I wouldn't be saying this. If you want to roll the dice on dying, follow me. If you want a long, safe life, get married. Move to the country. Do whatever'll make you happy, but don't delude yourself you can have it all. Marriage, family, kids, my squad, a long, fulfilling life. You choose. That's it. That's what I mean."

"And you want me to choose marriage?" Petra asked.

"You're a kid, Ral. Like I said." His eyes flashed once. "You're emotional right now, which is why I'm not whipping your ass for forgetting to address me properly. You should probably start doing that, by the way. Friendly advice. But like I said—you're too young to know absolutely what you want. Keep your options open."

"Captain. Sir. So you want me to take care of myself, but you also want the others to take care of me? That makes no sense."

"Them taking care of you is taking care of the squad. Taking care of me. It makes perfect sense, Petra, and I'm tired of chatting with you all about this. I've got business with Erwin. So go back to the party, drink a little, dance a little, and stay away from the rich pricks. Think you all can manage that?"

"Sir. I want to go on record as saying that I don't agree with any of this." Eld's voice was measured but clipped. He squared his shoulders, and Petra wondered if he had deliberately straightened himself to loom over the captain. Eld, the second in command, the perfect golden boy; Petra wondered if the captain ever felt that this younger, taller, more charismatic man was nipping at his heels. Levi merely flicked his gaze upward.

"Noted. Doesn't change my mind."

Gunther put a hand on Petra's shoulder, while Oruo hovered behind her. Petra placed a hand to her cheek, felt how burning hot she was to the touch. She was on fire with shame. When Levi left the room, she signaled to the others to wait and went out after him. None of the guys followed. Closing the door behind her, Petra watched the captain's receding form. Throat dry, she called to him.

"Sir. Please."

"I'm done talking about this." He didn't turn around. "You want latrine duty, Petra? This is how you get it."

She knew that these would have to be her last words on the subject, the parting shot. Petra understood she wouldn't change the captain's mind, but she wanted to ascertain something. Taking a deep breath, she spoke.

"If this world's so cruel, why do you care at all?"

She wasn't sure those were the best words she could've come up with, but they were the best that sprang to mind in these few seconds. Slowly, the captain turned on his heel and approached her. Petra's heart sped as he stepped nearer. The scent of the forest, of snow, of white soap enveloped her as he approached. With her shoes, they were on perfect eye level. The captain was so close that she could read the tightening of his jaw. For the first time, his eyes appeared troubled.

Petra was so close to him now. She wanted to reach out and touch him, press her cheek to his. Whisper in his ear that even if he could never want her back, she would burn for him until she died. Such feelings were one key reason why she hadn't been able to fall under Karl Morgenstern's spell. When the captain had caught her tonight as she slipped on the carriage step, she'd felt how strong he was, the tickle of his fine black hair against her temple. How could she ever want to touch another man after such a brief, tantalizing experience?

"I care," Levi said, his voice hoarse, "because your death belongs to the Corps. Not to some lord in the interior."

"My death?" Petra shivered.

"Don't kid yourself, Petra. We're all waiting to die in this job. It's sort of like your fancy parties; some people dance right away, some wait for hours on the sidelines. But sooner or later, we all dance."

"You don't."

"Hey, you never know. Stranger things have happened." The captain nodded his head. "Go."

"So that's all you want from me, sir? To follow you until I die?"

They looked into one another's eyes, and Petra swore she saw a stillness in the captain she'd never glimpsed before. His gaze did not move from hers for several heartbeats.

"What else would I want from you?" he asked flatly.

Then he left her.


	5. Chapter 5

_What else would I want from you, Petra?_

 _I'm fond of you, Petra._

Lies. Utter fucking horseshit. What did he want from her? Everything. Fond of her? He was fond of tea, of his horse, of kicking back with Erwin late in the evening and talking about nothing in particular. He was on fire for her. Watching the hurt in her wide, amber eyes as he belittled her had made him want to punch himself in the face until he had her permission to stop. Calling her weak. Calling her a kid. Making her believe it was all about business.

Protecting her, because he could not stand the idea of another man's filthy hands on her.

Levi could barely admit it to himself, but when he'd found her on the balcony with that fucking asswipe Karl (maybe his brother, maybe, fuck it) he'd nearly gone after the man. Not because Karl might have it out for him; not because Karl might've wanted to hurt Petra; no, worst of all, Karl might've wanted to fuck Petra. Bright flashes of mayhem flickered in Levi's mind's eye. He had entertained the thought of taking his own teeth to the lord's throat, ripping through his jugular and tearing the beating pulse out of the guy's neck. Then, bloody and dripping with murder, he imagined hoisting Petra into his arms and running her through the ballroom—fuck even knew how he'd do this without being seen or stopped—and then throwing her down onto the ground, climbing on top of her, snarling that she was _his_ , only _his_ , ripping away those frothy layers of gown and having her with brutal force because what the fuck did he know about fucking?

She had to be a virgin. Had to be. What a first time for both of them.

If it took every ounce of his control and the last breath in his body, he would protect her from himself.

 _Why can't you tell us what's wrong?_ They'd all asked it in so many words.

 _I can't look in your eyes, Petra, when you learn my mother was a whore and I'm a bastard and my maybe half-brother is out to get to me through you guys. I don't want you to look at me and see a scum, thug piece of shit._

Erwin. Where the fuck was Erwin? Levi got a headache just thinking about how long it'd been since he'd seen the man. Just sitting with the Commander would make some of this pain go away. Erwin and Petra, the two people he needed most in this world, only Erwin gave him order and calm, and Petra riled up the fractured chaos that he most wanted to keep buried. With Erwin, everything was open. With Petra, all was secrets and evasion.

 _That's not love. That's insanity._

If she saw the real him, she would never want him again. And he'd rather live apart from her and still be able to see some misguided desire in her sweet eyes than lose that light forever by being honest. He was a gremlin, some underground monstrosity looking up out of the cavern to where she sat in the sunshine, the girl in the little stories she loved to share by the fireside. Levi was a capering, leering, degenerate, horny piece of filth, one that wanted to contaminate that sweet little angel with his cock and his fumbling hands. Filth. He was filthy. No matter how many times he washed, he could feel that dirt and decrepit fungus deep under his nails and in the lines of his skin. The abscess of his soul. Touch her with his body? A perversion.

A thudding, persistent pain had started at the base of his skull and behind his eyes. This evening was all a bit too much for him. He needed a place to collect his thoughts.

He'd been ambling down some hallway. Stopping before a door, he opened up…

Inside, the curtains were drawn and moonlight flooded the room to outline the people within. Thankfully, Levi didn't get too much detail, but he got enough. More than enough.

"Hiya, Levi!" Hange had removed her gown and shoes, and stood there in a pointy brassiere (why were her tits pointy? Did Levi want the answer to that?) and absolutely no underpants. Across from her, the man and woman Levi'd seen earlier were mostly naked as well. The guy was down to his tight boxers, the woman naked except for her own underwear and some knee-high stockings. Her tits were small and pert.

The woman sat on the man's shoulders, forming a creature about ten feet tall. The girl held out her arms in a menacing gesture, and snarled and gnashed her teeth. The almost naked man wobbled a bit to keep them both balanced.

"Levi, why don't you join us? It'll make it feel so real." Hange bounced and clapped her hands with girlish glee. "I'm going to have sex with a titan!"

Levi did not say a word. He merely shut the door, and walked on. He was pretty sure he would never sleep again. He wondered idly if life was one long waking nightmare.

Someone ran smack into Levi as he rounded the corner. Moblit. The poor man's hair was standing up on end. His jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled.

"The squad leader. I can't find her anywhere!"

Levi tried to remember how to talk. "Back. Back there." He gestured over his shoulder with a jerk of his thumb. Moblit gave a haphazard salute, and ran on. Levi blinked, trying to think straight. "Moblit. Wait. Save yourself," he croaked, but the poor man's terrified shrieking was the only answer. Must've opened the door.

Levi passed couples nestled in shadowy alcoves, furtively embracing. The rustle of silk, the moans, the smacking noises made by lips. Fuck. Disgusting. He winced whenever he thought of sex, of the exchange of fluids, the fishlike stink of it. The only time he'd ever been really turned on by the thought of touching a woman like that was with Petra. Back in the barracks, after a full day of treating her the same as the others and acting disinterested, he'd return to his room, spit in his hand, and stroke himself to a climax, teeth clenched, eyes closed as he imagined those creamy legs of hers opening for him, the white and rose of her breasts, the slick little sanctuary between her thighs. Him inside of her, claiming her, her wanting him so much she could barely think. Then he'd come, his seed splattering on a towel, his spine bending and her name at the back of his throat. He'd clean himself over and over, hating that he wanted her, that he needed her to want him.

"Oh. Oh." A woman's breathy and somewhat familiar voice shook Levi from his reverie. He halted and, before he could tell himself not to, looked to his right. There, in a sheltered nook, he found a man and woman in the throes of mostly clothed passion. The girl's shapely leg was wrapped around the man's waist, her skirt rucked up to reveal the top of her thigh. Their faces were pressed together, her hand clasping the back of his neck. He had his own hand between her legs, and was clearly working hard. "Oh, you're a genius. Don't stop. Oh. _Oh_ ," she breathed. The man gave a deep groan of pleasure. He was a giant, taller even than Erwin, the woman no midget herself. Her hair was blonde and short, and she sounded like Nanaba because she _was_ Nanaba, which meant—

 _Fuck._ Levi was peeping on Mike. He whipped his head around and tried to creep off just as he heard Nanaba give in to a breathy climax. More smackings, probably Mike kissing her deeply. Levi did not want all of this information on his comrades. He winced, wondering if he was gonna run into Erwin having an orgy around the next corner. He prayed that the servants gave this place a good disinfecting after the night was over. Had every single alcove and couch been defiled? He wouldn't touch anything here for the rest of the party.

"Hey. You." Mike's voice stopped Levi in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder. Both Nanaba and Mike were peering around their corner at him. It looked like a scene out of a stupid comedy. Levi hated theatre; he hated how ridiculous everything was on the stage. Apparently, life could be even worse than some garbage play.

"Uh. Sorry," Levi grunted.

"It's fine." Mike stared. Levi stared back. They were the two quietest guys in the Survey Corps. One time, just the two of them in a room, it'd been so silent for so long that Levi forgot Mike was there. Turned out Mike had forgotten about Levi as well. Real shock when they noticed each other.

He liked Mike.

"No need to apologize," Mike said.

"We weren't exactly looking for privacy." Nanaba shrugged, then whispered something to Mike and took off. Maybe looking to get cleaned up. The idea of it made Levi's skin crawl.

"Want a drink?" Mike pulled out a flask.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Sometimes Levi wished he could get fucking drunk. Mike unscrewed the tumbler, poured some amber liquid, and passed it off. Levi leaned against the wall, and sipped. It burned through him good. Grunting in appreciation, he passed the flask back. Mike drank. "So. Good party?" Levi muttered.

"Yep." Silence. The two men stared at the carpet. "Good party?"

"Nope."

"Rich bastards, eh?"

"Sort of." Levi wasn't gonna get into this with Mike. Now that he'd made his squad secure, his plan was to lay low until the end of the night, get on his horse, and ride out of the Morgensterns' lives for good. Clearly Karl knew about him, otherwise he wouldn't have gone after Petra. While it pained Levi to imagine a bastard like that in charge of a large swath of territory, and all the souls who lived on it, he couldn't see how he'd be in a position to make it all better. He'd go on being Humanity's Strongest, a nameless bastard from the underground. That was all he knew. All he wanted.

Well. Not all he wanted.

Unbidden, his thoughts returned to Mike with his hand down his subordinate's underwear. Something like hope—a deformed kind of hope—flared in Levi's breast.

"Ask you something?" he grunted.

"Yep."

"Nanaba." A pause. "So. How's that work?"

A really long pause.

"You mean like—"

"No. No." From Mike's tone, it was clear he meant sex. Levi would rather set himself on fire than get those particulars. "How's Erwin not split your squad up?"

Mike shrugged. "It's just sex." Just. Just sex. Levi tried to comprehend the juxtaposition of those two words. Impossible. "We keep it quiet. Don't talk about it."

"Erwin knows."

"Suspects. But we keep it quiet. There's knowing, and then there's being told."

Levi imagined fucking Petra in a broom closet, retying his cravat, then going to dinner in the mess hall. Sitting neutral with her, acting like he didn't know how she tasted, how her cunt felt around his cock. Impossible. Maybe he could keep that act up for a little while, but he was an all or nothing man. She'd either be his in every way, or not at all. Plus, there was not a secret in this world that Levi would keep from his Commander. Erwin would be told. He would instruct Levi in what to do after that. All or nothing. That was him.

"Why you curious?"

"Not curious. Just…interested."

"Why interested?"

"Why're you curious?"

This could go on for fucking hours. Mike snorted, drank, gave up.

"Nanaba's coming back soon." Mike screwed the cap on his flask. "So."

"Yeah, now she's gonna grab _your_ dick." Silence. "Ha. That was a joke."

"Levi, you're fucking awkward."

Levi left Mike, walked around the corner. Maybe he should go back to the ballroom, but the idea of covertly watching Petra dance brought him no pleasure. She'd be miserable now, all because of him. She'd forgive him soon; that was her, always forgiving. Always seeing the best. Maybe he should go find Erwin, have a frank chat about what they were gonna do with the Morgensterns.

But the pain of what he'd done to Petra kept getting its teeth into him. He'd hurt her. Throwing her death in her face, calling it the only thing he wanted from her. Levi halted, winced, rubbed his forehead.

Had he gone too far? He'd gone too far, hadn't he?

"Captain. Hello." The storklike servant in black livery came to a stop before Levi, raising an eyebrow. "May I help you with something? Are you lost?"

 _If you only knew the half of it, pal._

"I'm not lost. Thanks." Levi stepped aside and let the guy get to wherever he was going. Maybe Levi should head for the ballroom and grab her, but…fuck it, he couldn't do this in front of the other guys. The thought made him sweat. Levi was bad with feelings, always had been. Petra's pain, his horniness, the guys' varying levels of annoyance and worship made up for a volatile cocktail of crazy. Levi turned, watched the servant walk away. Petra's face hovered before him, vivid whenever he closed his eyes.

He had to do it.

He had to apologize.

Erwin had always appreciated the solitude that libraries offered. As a boy, he would sit in his father's office and stare at the books on the shelves. Sometimes he would take a volume down and read, and sometimes he would merely turn the pages with a loving hand. The scent of old books was intoxicating, musk and the trappings of time.

His father's personal library had not been quite as extensive as this. Erwin stood in a room whose ceiling stretched twenty feet over his head. Several long, polished reading tables congregated in uniform order, spaced equally apart from one another. A ladder waited nearby to take him to the top shelves should he require it. Books rose around him, titanic in their grandeur. He walked to a shelf, trailed his fingers along the spines. Old histories, new novels, even a collection of Lord Morgenstern's writings. Erwin plucked one of those from the shelf, riffled through the pages. The scent of vellum and faded paper greeted him. He got as much of a sensual thrill out of it as, when a younger man, he'd first discovered the pleasure of a woman's body.

A woman.

Her soft footstep on the carpet. The ghost of her perfume.

"Erwin," Marie whispered.

Closing the book, Erwin turned to find Nile's wife standing a few feet away from him. The blue of her gown matched her wide, extraordinary eyes. Nearing forty now, two children into the marriage, he would have expected her to go to seed. Jowls, a dumpy waist, hair streaked with gray, lines at the corners of her eyes. And yes, Marie was no longer twenty-four, but she was still lovely. More delicate than before, more dignified. Her bosom a touch larger, her mouth lined faintly with laughter.

Nile had to go to bed in ecstasy every night.

"Hello, Marie." He laid the book on a table, and bowed at the waist. "What may I do for you?"

She shook her head, her porcelain brow furrowing. "Why are you so cruel?"

"What do you mean?"

She came to him, and Erwin could not help the way his scalp prickled to have her close that distance between them. Her upturned eyes, a plea written in her gaze.

"Have you forgotten everything?" she whispered.

"No. I could never do that." Their mouths were close, requiring only him to bend or her to lift off her heels.

Erwin had joined the training corps late. Embarrassingly late. His aunt and uncle had threatened and cajoled him until finally, on his nineteenth birthday, he had packed his case and left their house for the final time. His dreams would not be put off any longer, no matter their insistence that he could do so much more for humanity than die as a common soldier.

Nile Dok had been one of the few trainees as old as Erwin. They had sat together at every meal, trying to ignore the children that crowded the tables around them. Erwin had enlisted Nile into his dream of discovery; Nile, easily led and grateful for the friendship, soon adopted Erwin's passion with the conviction of a true follower.

In their final training year, the two had frequented an alehouse in town. They were men now, and had even less in common with the teenagers sprouting up around them. Heigel's Drafthouse was a scene for the intelligentsia, for artists and writers and layabouts with family money. Erwin had fit in better there than he'd wanted to admit. And then one evening, while sharing a pitcher of something too hoppy for Erwin's taste, the men had seen a girl in a blue dress sitting on her own. The girl had been blonde, exquisitely so, and sipping a framboise, a frothy little pink concoction so unmistakably feminine that it had roused something primal in Erwin.

"Come have a drink with us," Nile had squeaked. The girl had come over, and Erwin had noticed a splotch of yellow on her hand as she sat. A rolled up canvas lay beside her; she rested a reassuring hand upon it.

"Are you two gentlemen soldiers?" She'd smiled at them, a smile full of worldliness and faint interest. "Unusual clientele for this place."

That had been Erwin's introduction to Marie Bonner. Two years older than he, an artist, a bohemian in a world that did not even know what that word meant. Every night they could spare, Nile and Erwin would rush to the alehouse, and every night they would meet Marie there. Sometimes she'd go dancing with the two of them, laughing in their arms. _My handsome fascists,_ she called them, and she would discuss novels and plays that Nile had never heard of and that Erwin had read and seen twice. Nile's ardor for Marie was evident from the first sip of their first drink; Erwin made sure that his interest never registered as more than intellectual.

Because he had a vision of his future, and that future must involve the Survey Corps. And despite the inherent seduction in Marie Bonner's lily skin and knowing smiles, no earthly woman was going to derail his dream. He would not take a wife, not ever. He had sacrificed that kind of happiness when he knew his goals. For one, no woman could compete with his dream, and besides that, life in the Survey Corps meant possible death every time they left the walls. No woman should have to bear that emotional burden.

Though he craved her. Before he had even thought to put up a barricade, Marie had overcome his defenses and overthrown his peace of mind. He would think of her during training, when his instructors praised his aptitude tests. When someone came to him and hemmed and hawed about the Military Police, and how he could rise to become Commander within a few easy years, he pictured Marie in their shared home, decorating the walls with her art and laughing in his arms.

For the first time in his entire life, Erwin Smith knew uncertainty.

And then, graduation neared and Nile came to Erwin looking flushed. Stammering, he told Erwin that plans had changed. He was in the top ten of the class—they both were—but Nile was taking his skills to the Military Police. He was going to propose to Marie. Was going to? Well. He _had_ proposed.

And what did she say?

She laughed, and said she'd give her answer at graduation. She wanted to see what life her handsome fascists would choose.

Fascists. Plural. Erwin did not relish that moniker—he didn't think Nile knew what it meant—but the plural caught him off guard. What would _they_ choose?

What would _Erwin_ choose?

Two days before the ceremony, when the others were drinking and frolicking, Erwin had gone to town and found his way to Marie's studio apartment. He and Nile had been there before, to see her paintings. Nile had admired the curve of Marie's waist; Erwin had thought that, impressionistic splatters aside, the woman had a gift for color and texture. And he had eyed her bosom, as well.

The apartment occupied one half of the eave of a house. The roof slanted sharply down. The place smelled of turpentine and linseed oil. Erwin hung up his coat on a hook by the door. Buttery sunlight gleamed on the paint-splattered kitchen tabletop. A chipped earthenware mug held a spray of purple wildflowers gathered from a crack in the sidewalk. Marie loved natural flourishes trapped by the decay of urbanity. Her words.

An easel held up a new canvas, one that had been recently primed. A palette with squiggles of paint, brushes resting in a cup; Marie taking off her apron, saffron on her hands; a mortar and pestle dusted with scarlet red.

She was all color and art and life. She leaned against her kitchen table, and for once her smile was nowhere to be found.

"Nile proposed," he said evenly.

"He did."

"What are you waiting for?"

"You," she replied.

He kissed her until there was barely breath left in his body. Their fingers deftly unbuttoned one another, unhooked, undressed. Erwin had known women before, but never like this. Her mouth was supple; she tasted of sunlight and rosehip oil. Her breasts filled his hands. She moaned as her legs wrapped around his waist, as he positioned his cock at the entrance to her sex. She was perched on the edge of her kitchen table.

"You're a god," she whispered. For the first time, Marie Bonner looked undone. Her fingers trailed across the planes of his face, his lips, the hard contours of his training-firmed body. "How are you real?"

Erwin had answered by sliding into her. Though she'd been wet as could be, his girth had made her gasp, dig her fingernails into his shoulder. They'd fucked, and caught their breath, and then she'd straddled him when he sat in a chair and ridden him until he screamed her name. Her hair flowed around her as she threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut when she reached her climax and cried out. Erwin found her clit, lavished attention upon it over and over until she'd detonated several times, grew limp and languid in his arms.

Erwin could not remember how many times they made love that afternoon and evening. They'd used every flat surface available, from the table to the floor to, finally, Marie's bed. They never got dressed, not once. Famished, they ate apples and bread and half a pomegranate she'd been saving to paint—a whole month's worth of wages, gone in the afterglow of sex. They ate with their fingers, kissed one another with juice-ripened mouths. Erwin lay amid her rumpled sheets, an arm nestled behind his head, his cock resting on his stomach. Marie grabbed thick paper and charcoal and sketched him, sitting up by the headboard and giggling.

"You were born to be an artist's model," she said. Her strokes on the paper were deft and sure and furious. "Do you really not understand how handsome you are?"

"I wouldn't mind being told a few more times." He quirked an eyebrow. "I'm only human."

"No. You're a god, and a demon. You are _not_ human."

"How can I be both divine and demonic?"

"Believe me, Erwin Smith. You embody all kinds of contradictions. You have an artist's soul and an academic's mind and yet you want to become a soldier. Men like you don't join the military. It's a mindless, fascistic machine designed to swallow up all individuality. It's brutal and fueled by propaganda."

"I think you're the one who's talking propaganda now." He'd been terse. She'd paused in her sketching. "Why even consider marrying Nile, then? He'll join the MPs for you. The police, of all things. He'll keep you safe. A woman like you, choosing safety?"

"Art doesn't pay." She spoke softly, hair falling into her face. "And women grow older. Young, unmarried women artists have a good time; old, unmarried women artists sell paintings of cats and flowers on street corners and earn two pitying looks for every coin."

"And you call _me_ brutally practical."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. I want to finish my drawing, and then I want to fuck you."

"Then by all means. Continue."

She tasted earthy and ethereal all at once. He made love to her with his mouth, his hands, his cock, and she responded enthusiastically to every advance. Her medium was oil paint, but he envisioned himself a sculptor, stroking the curves of her body to create the perfect representation of flushed, orgasmic bliss. Once the sun had gone down and the moon had risen, once morning was not that far off they exhausted themselves and lay there in her bed. Moonlight silvered her hair, turned her cheek white.

"Erwin. I won't mind if you join the Survey Corps." Her breath stirred the hair at his temple. "I'll wait for you at home and pray to the goddesses to send you back to me."

"Marie." He shut his eyes. "You don't understand."

"I understand that I've loved you since the moment I saw you. If your vision of the Survey Corps has to take priority, it will. I'll be waiting for every moment you can spare."

That night was the worst of his life, as she slept in his arms. Erwin did not cry much, but for those few hours until dawn he wept and begged himself to relent. Just an inch. Just bend enough to put her in his life. He was half the Corps's, and half hers. A tilt in either direction and…

"Please," he begged with the fervor with which he'd beg something of a remote deity. "Please let me be human."

And the deity who wore Erwin's own face gazed down at him from the blackness of the ceiling. His eyes were cold.

When Marie awoke, it was dawn and Erwin was dressing. She looked up at him, bundling the blankets to cover her nakedness. He saw that she understood.

"Be safe," she whispered.

"Be happy," he replied, and left.

Erwin didn't attend Nile and Marie's wedding. He got drunk instead.

For fifteen years, he had not seen her. She was as tantalizing now as she had been then.

"Erwin. Please," she whispered, and their lips met. She slid into his arms with the ease of a practiced dance. Her moans were soft, her kisses light. He deepened the embrace, their tongues meeting, her body shivering against his.

Erwin reflected as he kissed this woman, the only woman he had ever loved.

On that night, their one night, he had been half hers. Though he had continued to yearn for her, as the years passed that half had halved in turn. He'd been twenty five percent hers; later, twelve and a half. Erwin could slice every ounce of love and desire into categorical slivers. His passion would never fully vanish—even if it got down to one one thousandth of a percent, it would exist and persist. Marie Bonner Dok would always be a part of him.

But she was no longer as important as his goals. His dreams. Not remotely. Though his body remained chaste, apart from the occasional dalliance or visit to an elite brothel, his soul was filled with a new kind of love. Mike, posting lookout by the window even when there was nothing to watch for; Hange, cackling and cavorting around with her science, wild ideas flourishing under her care; and Levi, always at his side, always blunt and surly and fierce in his convictions. These were his people. The only love he would allow himself, because they entwined perfectly with his dreams, enmeshed with his chosen reality.

Levi would grow disgusted if he heard these thoughts. To Levi, love was to be shunned because he did not think himself worthy of it. They'd never talked about it explicitly, but Erwin knew the man's fractured psychology enough to understand that. Whereas Erwin found that he did not require love to sustain him, Levi ran from his need for it.

Levi was truly, now and forever, the better man.

And Erwin would love him for it, and use that decency until one or both of them were dead.

Levi. His friend. His comrade. The only person Erwin would give his life for without hesitation.

Erwin pulled out of Marie's embrace. Keening, she clutched at his shoulders.

"What should we do?" she whispered. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips pink.

She was as desirable now as the day he had met her.

"I don't feel as I once did, Marie." He did not explain the fractioning of his love, because it was too cruel and also not cruel enough. He regarded her with half-lidded indifference. "Time has changed me. It's changed you." No, he couldn't be that awful. "You're still beautiful, Mrs. Dok. But it's not enough to tempt me. Please. Go back to your husband."

She pushed away from him, hand clutched to her chest. Her shoulders drew in. He'd shamed her, and he knew she was a proud woman. It was what he loved about her, one of the things.

A love that could be easily pushed aside when inconvenient.

"You're a demon," she muttered.

"You said it yourself long ago." He nodded in recognition. "A demon, yes. Though not divine, as it turns out."

"Erwin. I'll never see you again."

"That would be for the best." He paused then, and drank in the detail of her for the final time. The coil of her sleek blonde hair, the delicate lace at her cuffs, the rose of her lips. His, offered to him once more, and rejected.

"Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye, Marie."

He waited until she'd left the library, and returned to the shelves. His fingers again trailed along the spines of those books, caressed one, took it out.

Erwin studied the title. _Diary of Lord Viktor Morgenstern, Jan-Jun 815_

Odd. The cover felt warped, as if it had been wetted.

He opened the volume and began to scan the lines, his mind hopping point to point, drawing conclusions and checking his data.

If he were honest—cruelly, brutally honest—this was the reason he'd come to the library.

He'd forgotten he was supposed to meet Marie completely.

"So. Petra. How about the Marian?" Oruo had his shoulder against the wall, and was attempting to look suave. Petra merely drank, and resigned herself.

"Sure. That'd be nice. Thank you, Oruo."

His small eyes widened to their fullest. He seemed to glow. "O-Okay! Yeah! Be right back, I need another drink!" He scampered off, and Petra sighed and lovingly shook her head.

"Got a dance or two to go before the big one." Gunther held out his hand. "What say we show Eld and Katrina how it's done?"

Petra watched her friend and his girl on the dance floor. They seemed lost in their own world whenever they were together. Imagine that kind of bliss. Petra, meanwhile, had actively avoided looking for the captain. She gave Gunther her hand.

"Let's do it." She tried smiling as they sailed onto the floor. Gunther was a solid partner, solid in everything he did. Petra found she was always most comfortable in his company, of all the guys on the squad. They jigged together, and Gunther spoke.

"Listen. I want to just say it, before it gets awkward." He sighed. "I know, Petra."

"Know what?" Her heart thumped as they spun twice.

"I know about your feelings for the captain," he muttered.

"I. Gunther. What. I. Um." Her brain had ceased functioning.

"Relax, no one else knows. Least of all him." Gunther gave a slight smile. "Oruo and Eld don't notice these things, not like I do."

"How. That is. How do you…"

"I get it. Unrequited love." Petra had an irrational yearning to shout that no, the captain _did_ feel the same way! At least, there was a chance! She clamped her lips shut. "Don't get huffy. All I mean is that I know how it feels to love someone you shouldn't."

She frowned. "Who?"

Gunther shrugged, twirled her, then whispered, "Eld."

"Oh. _Oh._ "

By the walls themselves, it was damned obvious when she gave it a thought. Gunther was forever by Eld's side, always primed for duty whenever the second in command appeared. Petra had just assumed that he and Eld fit together, the way she and Oruo did; they were the cool-headed duo to counterbalance her and Oruo's squabbling.

"Gunther…"

"Relax. I know he'll never feel the same. I've resigned myself to it." Petra sensed now that Gunther might be turning in synchronicity with Eld and his girl. Maybe trying to catch a glimpse of the man's shoulders, his bun of yellow hair. "And I love Katrina. She makes him happy, and that's enough for me."

Why were her eyes filling with tears?

"I think…I think you deserve all that happiness, too," she said at last.

"And maybe I'll find it. Look, I can't stop my feelings for him. They'll last, but…" Gunther frowned. "The first step is understanding it's not going to happen. It's the one that hurts the most, but it's necessary."

"He…he could still feel that way." They both knew she didn't mean Eld.

"Maybe. Maybe. But it'd break up the squad, Petra. And besides, if he did." He sighed. "I'm sorry, but men don't hide their feelings for years. Women can be strong enough for that, but guys? He'd have made something obvious by now, and. Well."

"He hasn't." The captain was certainly a man, and he'd act like other men in regards to sex and desire. No doubt. The way Levi'd spoken to her in the parlor…

It was clear that he did not see her that way. He never had. He never would.

"Pet, I'm so sorry. Please don't cry." Gunther took the opportunity the dance presented to press his cheek to hers. "This was the wrong time to bring it up. I'm a jerk."

"No. No, you're right. I'm the one who's been silly." She sniffled, watched him with widening eyes. "Promise you'll never tell anyone?"

"Until my dying breath, it's our secret."

She kissed Gunther's cheek as the dance ended, and they applauded the musicians.

 _The first step to freeing myself is to accept he doesn't feel the same._

She would be all right. She would find love. Real love. Something that wasn't a fantasy nurtured in her mind.

Even if it killed her tonight, she'd be fine. One day.

They walked off the floor to find Oruo waiting with two glasses of sparkling wine. As Gunther left to get some air, she drank with Oruo. Petra felt sullen now, glaring at the blissful dancers before her. This was supposed to be a fairy tale of an evening. Instead, reality kept shoving its ugly face into hers at every turn.

"Hey." Oruo bumped her elbow. "Don't cry, Pet. It'll be okay."

"I know," she muttered, wiping her cheeks. Idiot. She cried too damn easily.

"Look, we all get a smack from the captain now and then. Your turn was up, that's all." Oruo sighed, and looked heavenward. He had a hero crush on Levi to rival her own. If the captain told him to pull down his pants and jam a radish up his anus, Oruo would proudly proclaim that it was the greatest experience of his life. "Besides, everyone knows you're his favorite."

"I am?" She barely mustered a smile. What was the point of gaining his favor if his heart didn't race when he saw her?

 _You joined the military to be a brave soldier in his eyes._

Yes. Yes, that was right. Petra lightened at the thought.

She could always be that to him, if nothing else.

"Whenever you do anything, it's always 'look at Petra do this' and 'see how nice Petra made that.' You're the only one of us who ever makes smile even a little bit." Oruo sighed. "You're lucky, Pet."

Yes. She smiled now, her heart still broken but the pieces mendable. She was a little dear to him, at least.

"I just wish you guys didn't have to take shifts protecting me."

"Soon, we're gonna take to the floor and all your troubles will wash away." Oruo sniffed. "I am the superior dancer in the whole Squad Levi."

"Careful, you dribbled some wine down your chin."

While Oruo fixed himself up, Petra turned to find a thin, pale man in black livery standing before her. A servant. He regarded her with a bored expression.

"Petra Ral?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Captain Levi has requested to see you."

"Okay." Oruo fluffed his cravat. "I'll escort her."

"The captain requested to see you alone." The servant shrugged, as if this message were beneath him. "He was adamant about it."

"Well, the captain _requested_ she not go anywhere alone tonight!" Oruo jutted his jaw.

"The captain isn't a dangerous predator," Petra said flatly.

"Oh. Well. Yeah. True."

Petra bit her lip. What if this was a test? One to see if she'd obey his orders? Petra shuddered at the thought of latrine duty. But…

What if he wanted to apologize? Was such a thing possible?

She suppressed the flutter of hope in her stomach; the captain wasn't about to pull her away and declare undying love. But he probably wanted to…

No, he couldn't apologize to someone like her.

Could he?

"Madame, if you're coming," the servant drawled.

"Yes. I am." She patted Oruo's arm. "Back in time for the Marian."

"Don't be late! Tell the captain I'm expecting you!" he called as Petra tracked the servant through the crowded ballroom. Her heart pummeled her chest as she followed the fellow up the stairs, took a left, and padded down a winding labyrinth of hallways.

"Why's the captain all the way up here?" she asked.

"In truth, madame, he's been drinking. I believe he's sulking." The servant sniffed.

Sulking. Could he feel sorry for what he'd done?

No. She wouldn't believe that. But when the servant stopped outside a pair of doors and gestured to them, her whole body buzzed with tension. Maybe. Maybe Gunther was wrong.

Oh, she'd give her soul to have him be wrong.

"Thank you," she breathed, and opened the doors. The servant made a dismissive noise, and walked on. Petra entered a darkened room. Across from her, windows displayed the falling snow outside. A large, officious looking desk waited directly before her. Turning her head to the left, Petra noticed a canopied bed.

A bed? The lights out? She clenched her jaw, trying to suppress the giddiness. Impossible. Impossible. No. He couldn't…

He couldn't want…

"Captain?" she breathed, hands over her chest, her heart fluttering under her fingertips. The door closed behind her. Petra turned on her heel.

"Hello, Miss Ral," Karl Morgenstern said.


	6. Chapter 6

Petra could not speak, or move. As Karl strode into a slant of moonlight, she had a brief, ridiculous moment where she wondered what in hell he'd done with Captain Levi. She blinked, trying to reorient her thoughts. The captain had never asked for her. That servant was going to pay for this.

If she got out of here. No. Petra frowned. _When._

"This isn't funny," she snapped.

"It wasn't intended to be. However." The handsome bastard grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "The look on your _face_." Karl tsked, and began to remove his coat. "Honestly, he must have you under his desk every chance he gets. It's obvious how badly you want it."

"He doesn't—"

"Then you're embarrassing yourself daily, it seems. Men don't like horny little redheads running around with their skirts pulled up. No dignity in that." He loosened his tie as he studied her, a vulpine light in his eyes. "No challenge. Taking a woman who _doesn't_ want it, though. That's skill that requires a hunter's determination."

"If you think you're such a great hunter, why not strap on some gear and come fight titans beyond the wall?" Petra bared her teeth, rage dashing all the fear inside of her to pieces. "Men like you make me sick. You're just…a _pig._ "

"There's the fire." Karl sounded intensely interested as he tossed his coat and tie to the floor. The captain would have his head for that; mess couldn't be tolerated. Petra nearly burst out laughing with the thought. "Now. Take off your clothes and get into bed."

"No," she growled, her head down and hands fisted at her sides. No one, _no one_ would ever make her do this. Petra would die first.

"Good. Even better. I want you to fight."

"Why are you doing this? It can't just be the _hunt_ ," she spat.

"Clever girl. I'm interested in your captain. I want to see what his pressure points are." Karl advanced a step, then two. Petra bent her knees, ready. She isolated the groin, the instep, the solar plexus, all the points on him she could smash. She could put him in a joint lock. She could sweep his legs out from under him. This bastard had made the mistake so many had made Petra's entire life—he believed that someone as small and delicate as she could never be a threat. That was going to be his fatal error.

"Pressure points?" _Keep him talking. Surprise him._

"This isn't your concern, Miss Ral. Why I want him. What I stand to gain. But I want his fury, you see. And based on my impression this evening, it's clear that he's a man who takes the welfare of his subordinates quite seriously. I'm sure an adorable girl like you is something of a puppy to him. When he finds out you've been violated." Karl clicked his tongue, and let the rest of that statement hang invisible in the air.

"If you want his fury, you only have to call him a midget. I've seen him break a man's nose in a bar for that." Petra's eyes had adjusted to the dim, and she began to map out a path to get around this bastard. Her left foot slid behind her right; she was ready.

"True. But I admit, I need more than irritation. I need something volcanic. Combustible. And besides." He paused a few feet from her. "I want you to weep while I'm inside you."

He wanted something volcanic?

"Then come on and try, you fucking bastard! You limp-dicked speck of dried cum! You _cunt!_ " Petra spoke with Levi's voice now, and his words; she half-imagined the captain was whispering into her ear, feeding the threats she'd heard him use a thousand times. He was the wings at her back right now. The thought of him gave her strength, powered her to an obscene degree. This rich prick didn't know what he'd done. "Try and touch me! I'll drag you to hell even if I have to stay there myself!" she barked.

Karl appeared blank. "I don't like foul-mouthed women."

"I don't give a _fuck_ what you like." Snarling, Petra lunged and landed a blow on the man's jaw. It was rock hard, and she winced as the flesh split on her fingers. But Karl staggered back with a soft noise of shock, and that was all Petra needed. She dodged around him, sprinting for the door even with her stupid heels. It didn't matter. Once in the hall, she'd scream murder and run until she found someone to help her. Almost out of the room. Yes.

Yes.

The captain had taught her well.

 _Oof._

Karl's hand came out of nowhere, and his fist collided with her soft belly. Petra felt her eyes bulge as she collapsed to her knees; her nails scrabbled at the floor as she tried to breathe and could not. Her stomach was on fire. Tears sped down her cheeks. Petra made whistling, whimpering noises as Karl hauled her to her feet, spun her around, and threw her against the desk. She flailed, her hands looking for purchase on something. She knocked over a jar of pens, which crashed and rolled across the floor. Eyes wide, she stared at a sheaf of papers, a small marble bust of some important-looking man, a letter opener carved from bone. Behind her, Karl huffed.

"That'll leave a mark, you little bitch." He grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her forehead to the desktop. Petra managed to breathe just a little as he whispered into her ear. His breath was hot, and reeked of wine. "I was going to fuck you in bed, but you lost that privilege."

Her mind spun, broken. Think. She needed to think. Her sobs muffled, Petra reached out for someone to help her, but the darkness gave nothing back. Tears softened her vision as she glanced up at the window, the moon highlighting the drifting snowflakes. How could life be so peaceful while this was happening to her? Karl shoved her legs apart; she nearly collapsed. Grunting, she felt his fingers at the buttons to her dress's back. Petra squeezed her eyes shut. He could've simply thrown up her skirts, but he wanted to strip her naked. He wanted to prolong this suffering. To let her know how little control she had over her body.

Indeed, as button after button snapped open, she heard Karl give a soft, almost lustful sigh.

"You have such delicate skin," he hissed, his fingers stroking down the ridge of Petra's spine. She winced, felt vomit burn the back of her throat. As he pushed her hair up and went to run his mouth along the nape of her neck, Petra's hand closed over the marble bust.

She turned at the perfect moment. Her eyes met Karl's green ones, and she got to see his expression shift from puzzlement to pain as she slammed the base of the bust against the side of his head. With a curse, the man tumbled to the floor. Petra leapt over his legs, left him rolling about in agony. Tears flew from her eyes as she sprinted for the door. It felt as if she were attempting to run underwater; had she always been this slow?

 _I'm all right. I'm going to find the guys._

Soon, her squad would be at her back, and they would finish this. Petra was strong on her own, stubborn as hell, but with her three friends beside her and the captain leading the way? When it was the five of them, they could do anything.

She cried with joy as she yanked the door open—

And nearly ran into two men.

"Oh, good. Great. Help me!" Petra cried, looking up at their faces. "He, he tried to…hurt me." She couldn't force the correct word for what Karl had wanted past her lips. "Please. Call the—"

She'd been about to say 'military police' when she noticed the red wine stain on one man's jacket. Blinking, Petra looked up into Gregor's face.

Gregor regarded her with a creased brow and a downturned mouth. His eyes were hooded. He, and his friend, did not move.

"G-Gregor? I need to get out." Petra's throat was dry.

"Hey, Petra." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Would you move, please?" Her politeness was incomprehensible, but she needed it. She needed to believe that they were still playing by the rules.

"Why don't you go back inside, huh?" He looked to the floor to avoid her gaze. "Just…just go back inside."

Petra's chin wobbled. "I don't want to."

"Go back inside," the other MP said. Unlike Gregor, he showed no grief.

"Get out of my way."

And then, behind her, there came Karl's shout: "Bring the bitch over here."

Gregor met Petra's eyes. She looked between him and the other MP. Baring her teeth, she lunged to smash through their barricade.

She didn't make it.

 _Petra, I'm sorry._

 _It's fine, Ral. Go dance with anyone you like._

 _I overreacted._

 _No; I had second thoughts._

 _I'm sorry, Petra._

The apologies and excuses hummed in his brain. As Levi stepped back into the ballroom, he sought out his squad. He halted when he recognized the strains of the music. Lilting, one-two-three, one-two-three, the kind of fancy music that Erwin would be able to identify as an allegratto or pianisette or something like that. Levi recognized it as the beginning of the Marian waltz.

Petra's favorite dance.

He sighed, looking out on the floor and trying to catch a glimpse of her amid the swirling couples. Maybe she was dancing with Gunther again this year. Probably Oruo'd roped her into being his partner. The poor bastard would likely bite his own tongue with the excitement of dancing with the girl he obviously adored. Childhood friends, weren't they? Sometimes, Levi hated their closeness, displayed most often in fond bickering.

Must be nice to have someone like that. Someone who knew you from the past, from when you were first becoming yourself.

He missed Furlan fiercely, the emotion a sharp stab in the gut. It eased up quickly, but he felt the pressure of it still as he tried to find Petra.

"Captain!" Oruo hastened to his side, skidded to a halt. The guy was visibly sweating. Guess Petra'd gone with Gunther again. Wise choice. Oruo licked his lips as he stared at the captain, then behind him, then off to the side. Levi frowned.

"What? Hell, Oruo, did you shit yourself?"

"Where's Petra?"

Levi felt himself act before he could think. He did not make a habit of physically disciplining his subordinates. He was fond, too fond of them. But he grabbed Oruo by the lapels and dragged him down until they were nose to nose.

"Isn't that the question I should be asking you after I gave you my express fucking orders?" Levi heard his own voice at a distance. It was like the world around him was turning black. Oruo gulped.

"S-Sir! Y-You asked for her to come and meet you. You t-told us you wanted to see her alone! She said she'd be back in time for the Marian! The servant said you wanted to see her alone!" he repeated, color flushing his cheeks. Sweat stood out starkly on the guy's forehead now. "Please. Please tell me you—"

"I never asked for her." Levi let go of Oruo. The guy's chin began to quiver.

"I let her go off alone," he croaked.

Levi knew the man's fondness for Petra. Knew that, their banter aside, Oruo'd slice off his own hand before he'd see her harmed in the slightest. But there was no mercy in Levi's heart now. She'd been led off in the most _fucking obvious_ way, a lamb to the slaughterhouse, _his responsibility_. If she were hurt…if she were bleeding…if that psycho, that animal had done anything to her that couldn't be undone—

 _I'll kill him._ Levi hadn't heard those words in his head in so long. Not since he came out of the underground. Levi hadn't killed a human being in over six years, and it wasn't something he particularly missed. He hated unnecessary death.

But if it were necessary, he could downright _enjoy_ it. That was the side of him that he saw in the mirror now and again, the one he didn't want to look at.

But he would welcome it now.

But first, Oruo. Levi glared up into the man's quivering face.

"If she's dead, you'll have helped murder her, Bozad."

Oruo seemed to deflate. His shoulders slumped, his back curved. In a few quick words, Levi had broken the man. He couldn't…

He couldn't be that cruel.

"But most of her blood's on my head. I'll take the responsibility," he growled. Turning away, he stumbled into Gunther and Eld. Eld frowned.

"Sir? Where's—"

"The servant lied. I never asked for her. They've got her now."

"They?" Gunther frowned, alarm spreading on his face. "We still don't know who they are."

"You don't need to know," Levi snarled, shoving past the two. His only real mistake had been trusting in anyone other than himself. Oruo gave a quick, stifled sob. Soon. Once this was settled, he'd apologize to the guy. Even though what Levi'd said was true. How fucking idiotic did these topside raised kids have to be?

Petra'd gone off alone, a willing victim.

It was because she and Oruo and the others had been raised to fear titans, not men.

Levi hated both and feared neither.

 _Petra. Be all right. Be all right._ He willed this as he pressed back into the hall.

"Captain!" Eld shoved in front of him, Gunther and Oruo behind. Levi could hear Oruo's sniffles. "Tell us what to do."

"You've all done enough." Levi glowered at his second in command. "I ordered you to keep her safe."

"We thought we were obeying your orders when we let her go. It's not Oruo's fault."

"No. No, it's mine for relying on you all in any way outside of the walls. You don't know shit about this world." He tried to get around, but Eld landed in his way again. Levi squared his jaw. "Don't make me go through you, Eld. I go easy on you all in training, but—"

"Petra is one of _us_." Eld's eyes blazed with feeling. "This place is enormous. Who knows where they have her? You can't do this alone."

"I don't need you," he snarled, feeling as he said it that it was dumb as fuck.

"Sir. She needs us." Eld glared. "We're doing this with or without your approval."

Levi had never felt smaller than he did right now, surrounded by these men, knowing that of all of them he had fucked up hardest. This world. He'd insulted them, but he didn't understand it either. These rich fucks playing their little games of power, maneuvering innocent people like pawns in their pretend battles. Using Petra like she was only a body, a means to an end.

Like his mother. Using. Always using others.

Levi did not understand people like this. Erwin could, but Levi only understood monsters. He only related to them. Erwin knew the world, and Levi did not.

If there'd been any time, Levi would've gone looking for his Commander. But right now, every second was precious. _And I'm wasting them with this petty bullshit._

"Eld. You and Gunther take the lower level. Oruo, come with me upstairs. We have to move quickly. When'd you last see her?"

"F-Fifteen minutes ago," Oruo squeaked. Sounded like he wiped his nose on his arm. Levi nodded.

"Find her. Do whatever it takes."

They all set off then, Oruo tagging after Levi and making certain not to walk beside the man. He was like a whipped dog. But Levi barely focused on his lingering guilt while they took the stairs two at a time and hit the second floor, as they began moving in unison, opening doors and checking again and again.

As he moved, Levi went to that mechanical, cold place he always entered during missions outside the wall. His objective was to find Petra. He would do that.

And if she had been hurt…

Levi knew that it would be a long, brutal night for all of them.


	7. Chapter 7

The two men crowded Petra into the room and slammed the door behind them. Petra tasted fear in the back of her throat, metallic as blood. Pulse racing, she tried to glance over her shoulder to where Karl would be circling now. Gregor stepped nearer, his hands held up cautiously; he knew from experience during their training days that Petra could be a nightmare to handle. She cursed to herself. If only she didn't have an opponent who knew how she moved in a fight.

"Get over here now," Karl snapped. She watched as the two MPs advanced on her. Petra let her arms float to her sides, and swayed back and forth. The two men straightened, obviously growing more confident in themselves.

Ah. Apparently Gregor didn't remember everything after all. Good.

Her ploy to appear helpless had worked. When the other, unknown man reached for her, Petra kicked high and struck him right in the stomach. His eyes bulged, and he leaned over slowly and crumpled to his knees. Gregor swore as Petra rushed at him, then darted around him when he reached for her. She raced for the door, free again, triumphant with Karl's roar of indignation behind her—

One of her traitorous heels slipped on the floor, and her ankle rolled. Screaming, Petra collapsed, landing hard on her side. Tears welling in her eyes, she flexed her foot and breathed out in shaky relief. Not broken, maybe not even sprained. But it hurt nonetheless. Scrambling, she got to her knees and crawled.

Gregor's foot came down on her voluminous skirt, pinning her. Frantic, Petra gave a scream and scrabbled forward; there was a high, ripping sound. Fuck. Nifa was going to kill her for ruining her dress.

Suddenly, having Nifa's fury as her biggest problem seemed the sweetest thing in the world.

Petra lunged forward, arm outstretched, grasping for that door handle. But she felt Gregor's hand on her shoulder, and knew it was too late.

The night air was cold on her naked back as her former comrade yanked her away, threw her to the floor, and put her in a chokehold. Petra gasped, straining for breath. Her hands slapped at Gregor's arm, trying to pry him off. It had to appear ludicrous to anyone watching. Spots danced in Petra's vision, and her grip on Gregor's arm slackened. She had graduated fifth in their training year because she was one of the best with the ODM equipment, her bladework was unparalleled, and she was a very good student in the classroom. But her weakest area, by far, had been hand to hand combat.

She had never been very good at fighting humans.

Petra slumped back into Gregor's arms, and began to dip into unconsciousness. As if through ears filled with cotton, she heard Karl speak.

"That's enough. On the bed."

Gregor eased his hold, and Petra choked and coughed. Her arms and legs were leaden; she could barely lift her head as Gregor picked her up as easily as if she were a doll. She mumbled and groaned as he carried her, then threw her down onto the bed. Springs squealed beneath her. Blinking, Petra watched patterns of moonlight warp on the silken canopy overhead.

 _If I don't move, he'll…_

"One on each side. Grab her arm and leg. I don't want any more of this ridiculous fighting."

Petra felt rough hands encircle her wrists. She felt men gripping her ankles, and then she was pulled in two directions. Gasping, she looked to either side of her. Gregor was to her left, and kept his eyes averted. The other man, who'd regained his composure, glared at her from the right. Petra frantically tugged, but to no avail. They had her now.

Then, the mattress shifted as Karl climbed in from the foot of the bed. He loomed over her, a great black shape that swallowed up the moonlight on the canopy. Petra could still read the glinting mayhem in his eyes.

She was spread out entirely for him, unable to move her limbs in any way. As he bent his head, Petra's stomach roiled at the thought that he was going to kiss her.

Even though it would only mean more pain, she spat in his face. Karl jerked backwards, then calmly watched her with spit on his cheek, a slimy trail in the moonlight. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"That's very rude," he said nonchalantly. Then he slapped her hard across the face. The blistering sting of it snapped her head to the left. Her eyes sought Gregor's. Though he wouldn't look at her, he was now crying. Petra's cheek throbbed as Karl hunkered down over her, propped up on his elbows. Petra shut her eyes tight, and felt him lick her cheek in one long, searing line from her jaw to her temple. It made her think of touching mold, or fungus. Her whole body shuddered in revulsion. Karl put his lips to her ear and whispered, his breath stirring her hair. "This isn't anything so crude as lust. I want you to know that." Petra clenched her jaw as his right hand gripped her breast, and squeezed. Mercifully, she was still clothed, so she didn't have to feel his skin against hers.

Yet.

"What did the captain ever do to you?" she muttered. Petra kept her eyes squeezed shut, but whimpered as Karl pushed her skirts up to the tops of her thighs. A few inches more and he'd reveal her underwear. She jerked as his hands ghosted up and down her legs. Why, why was he prolonging this?

Because he was a beast that enjoyed playing with its quarry before the kill.

"Would you consider it incomprehensible if I said I envied you?"

Petra opened her eyes and looked at him. Karl was regarding her now with something more horrifying than desire or hatred; he appeared truly, deeply unsettled. Unhinged. As if it would take only one soft word and a sideways glance to send him skittering out of mental control.

"I would," she breathed.

"Hmmph. Fair enough. But it's true all the same." He circled the tip of his index finger around and around on the inside of her thigh. Petra wanted to scream. "You were born with the expectation of doing something. Granted, I'm certain your parents imagined you a wife and mother, perhaps a shopkeeper of some sort. Not a soldier. But still, you were supposed to do something. You probably looked around and asked yourself how to be useful. But that was never open to me. Never to me." He pinched a bit of Petra's flesh, and began to squeeze. Tears popped into her eyes, though she wouldn't let him see how it hurt. "I was born to the expectations of inheritance. When that is all you know, you forego more…conventional means of education. More conventional pleasures. You can't understand the burden of excessive privilege, can you?" He sighed then, and twisted her flesh. Petra bucked, and cried out in pain. "And you cannot imagine how frightening it is to be told that your expectations of nothing, and plenty of it, might be snatched away in an instant. When you have been trained to do nothing, be nothing, twenty-five is too late to think any other way. Do you understand?"

"No," she snarled.

"I thought not."

"That still doesn't make any sense. What does this have to do with Captain Levi?"

Karl gave a small snort of amusement. That tiny, inconsequential noise of his—like she was a child who'd asked a particularly cute question—made her want to scream. If he was looking to violate her body and her mind, he might as well not do it so damn lightly.

"He stands in the way of my beautiful dream." Karl hissed in a breath as he twisted her flesh harder. Petra wept with it, trying desperately to shake herself free from the men holding her. They gripped fast. None of this made sense. Petra began to realize that she was going to be dragged through hell, and she didn't even know why. All she knew was that it had something to do with the captain.

 _He tried to warn me, and I didn't take him seriously. Now look at me._

No. Petra's mind shut that down quickly. She would go into hell itself for her captain—for the man she loved, even if he didn't love her back. But she was not going to blame what was happening to her now in any way on herself. This was Karl and the MPs doing, not hers, and not Levi's.

"I must say, Miss Ral. You have the most exquisite skin." Karl finally released that bit of her thigh. Petra felt it throbbing. She began to shiver as Karl pulled at her sleeves, so that they slid further down her arms, baring the tops of her breasts. "The way you tense up beneath me, the ecstasy of your revulsion. Your loathing. Your fear." His voice trembled with the feeling of it all. "It makes me utterly hard."

Gregor gave a soft noise of disgust, which Karl either did not or chose not to hear. Petra hated Gregor more than the lord on top of her. Gregor knew what this was, knew it was wrong, and persisted…for what? For a career?

"You're trash," she snapped at him. His chin quivered.

"I want your hate, Miss Ral." Karl cupped her face and made her look at him. He gripped her tightly; she was sure he'd leave a pattern of bruises. "I want to feel you die a little when I enter you." The look in his eyes now was as tender as if they were the most committed lovers. He leaned down and, as softly as if giving a kiss, bit her right on the breast. Petra screamed as she felt him draw blood, and burst into frustrated tears. Stupid. Stupid! She was giving him exactly what he wanted. Karl gave a sigh.

"Your tears and screams excite me more than any moans could," he whispered, sounding urgent with longing. Petra grimaced as she heard the click of a belt buckle. In a second, he'd pull down her underwear and then…

Then it would be too late.

Petra began to feel herself leave her own body. Good. If this had to happen, it'd be merciful for her not to be aware of it.

This was worse than titans, she thought. At least out in the world beyond the walls, when faced with a fifteen meter or an abnormal, she never got the sense of malice. Titans wanted to eat you, and their actions were inherently cruel because of it. But they weren't cruel _themselves._ In a way, Petra could understand Hange's bizarre adoration of the creatures. They were like wild animals, if you really thought about it. They were simply acting according to their nature.

But this, this thing that Karl was doing to her…this was cruelty for the sake of cruelty. The men helping him were doing it out of greed, or cowardice. Petra felt her mind on the verge of collapse. Closing her eyes, she lay back and drifted into some kind of liminal state, somewhere between dream and reality.

 _Oi._

The captain.

 _"_ _Oi, oi, oi. Why're you on the ground, Petra?"_

 _She huffed in frustration and coughed the dust from her lungs. Sitting up, she swiped at her clothes. The captain hated when his officers weren't neat._

 _Only three days on his squad, and already she'd embarrassed herself in training. Flushed, she stood and surreptitiously wiped at her butt._

 _"_ _S-Sir, I was on the ground because you knocked me down, sir. Because I hadn't prepared myself for a leg sweep."_

 _"_ _No." He stood before her, nearly her height but, to Petra at least, impossibly huge. His raven hair shadowed his eyes, which squinted as they appraised her lackluster performance. "You're on the ground because you think you deserve to be there."_

 _"_ _Sir?"_

 _"_ _You're a capable soldier, Ral. I wouldn't have picked you otherwise." He got in her face, wearing that imperious sneer. "But you're always waiting for us to realize that you're secretly shit. You're the smallest. The youngest." He cocked an eyebrow. "The girl? That's what you think, isn't it? That all those things make you any less dangerous than the rest of my men."_

 _Petra squared her jaw. She could feel her temper rising. Papa called it her most famous personality trait. 'Beware of Pet's temper,' he'd chortle._

 _"_ _That make you mad, Ral?"_

 _"_ _I don't think being the only girl means I'm less capable."_

 _"_ _I agree." He crossed his arms. "My point is_ you _think it makes you less. That, and your height."_

 _"_ _I…" She huffed; he had her. "Yes."_

 _"_ _I know how it feels to be underestimated when you walk into a room." He lowered his voice then, and softened his tone. Petra looked up, blinking in surprise. This near, with his icy façade down, the captain was downright personable. "You're never gonna be a six foot tall bruiser with a swinging dick, Petra. Let that idea go right now. Let the idea that you_ have _to be that swinging dick die, because it's bullshit."_

 _"_ _I…I can't be just like you, sir. You're." Petra fumbled for the words._ Not human _seemed like something he'd take the wrong way. "Too exceptional. You're special."_

 _"_ _Listen, Petra. If you wanna go through life waiting for people to give you permission to take up space, you're gonna end up dead real fast or disappointed for a long, long time. I know you know how to stay on your feet. Stop feeling embarrassed for what you are," he snapped._

 _Petra stared at his boots. For a man of so few words, and such a blunt demeanor, the captain had wormed his way to the heart of her fears. He was more perceptive than he let on. Maybe more than he himself knew._

 _"_ _Sir…why do we have to practice hand to hand?" She dared to look up again. The captain appeared slightly shocked. "We fight titans, not people."_

 _"_ _You really think the world's full of such fucking angels that you don't need to worry about what's_ inside _the walls?" He sounded almost disappointed._

 _"_ _N-No! It just…if we were the MPs there'd be more, uh, practical uses, but—"_

 _"_ _But we focus on what's outside. No, I get it. I do." He sniffed, jerked his chin. "I learn a lot about a person when I fight them. People can bullshit you all day long when they talk, but their actions never lie. You feel inadequate because, physically, you're smaller and weaker and you always will be. Now you can either let that determine the whole course of your life, or." Here he paused, made sure she looked him right in the eye. "You can use it to your advantage."_

 _"_ _How?"_

 _"_ _When people look at you, they see a pretty little girl." Petra tried not to let her face flush at his use of the word 'pretty.' He couldn't mean anything by it. "No one expects a pretty little girl to be a badass."_

 _"_ _So…what does that mean?"_

 _The corner of his mouth twitched; it was fast, but she almost thought it was a smile._

 _"_ _It means they'll go in for a kiss, and that's when you go in for the kill."_

That had been two years ago, but it seemed a lifetime and a half away. But as Petra opened her eyes, as she turned her head, she listened to the echo of those words reverberate through her skull. Yes. Yes, she understood.

The world was filled with people like Karl who did not know the wildness that nested alongside the kindness in her heart, a grim hawk beside a white dove.

Petra looked up at Karl, her mouth dropping open. Her eyes moistened with tears. The sight of it made him gasp.

"Beautiful girl," he whispered, and went, finally, to kiss her. Closer. And closer.

They had her by the arms and legs. But they hadn't restrained her neck.

At the exact right moment, Petra headbutted Karl. She heard the satisfying squelch of cartilage and bone as she broke his nose. The lord jerked backwards, hands over his face, blood flying, his howls obscene. Petra felt her captors on either side weaken their hold with shock.

That was all she needed.

Gregor's grip loosened, and she wrenched herself free. The other MP's eyes widened in comical surprise as Petra kicked him hard in the side of the head. He released her at once and collapsed, while she rolled onto her back and, aiming perfectly, struck Karl directly in his solar plexus. The lord doubled over, wheezing, and then slid off the bed as well. Petra got to her knees at once, and glared at Gregor. He had his hands up, and didn't even try to restrain her again.

"P-Please. I'm so sorry. W-We're paid, you see, to… Petra, I'm—"

Even though it opened up her knuckles further, she punched him square in the face. His lip split open. Breathing fire, her body sore and scraped and torn, Petra got off the bed and ran for the door. Her dress flapped open at the back, her face was swelling from where Karl had struck her, and she vainly tried to adjust her gown to cover her breasts again. She was fairly certain Karl had left a puckered bite mark that she wouldn't be able to hide completely.

But she was free.

 _You thought I was a pretty, helpless little girl. You fucker,_ she thought, and even though it hurt, she smiled grimly.

This time, mercifully, she got across the room. The men were still rolling around on the floor and groaning behind her. Petra gripped the handle, flung the door open—

And there was another man there, waiting.

"No!" Petra fell back into fighting stance with a scream, her body shaking. "Let me out! You bastard, let me—"

"Petra?"

The voice.

"Captain?" she whispered. Slowly, she dropped her hands. He stood in the doorway, pristine in his best clothes, unruffled. The sight of him was a drop of water on a parched day. Her lips trembled as she tried to smile, but all she could do was choke back a sob.

He'd found her.

"Petra." He said her name with relief. His eyes widened at the sight of her.

And then the dam burst, all the fear, all the misery, all the hatred, all the joy, it came rushing down over her like when she swam out to the deepest part of the river and let the current tug her along.

With a cry, she flung herself forward and into his arms.


	8. Chapter 8

She was in his arms. Or, rather, he was in hers.

He remembered it as a series of moments, fragments, pictures out of order in a storybook that he could only sluggishly read. He'd opened the door—no, she'd opened it—and he'd seen her—seen her standing there, on both her feet, alive—and. He blinked. Levi could barely remember why he'd come here.

Because he was in her arms.

She'd thrown herself forward, and now she clung to him. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her cheek pressed against his. He felt the dampness of tears—somewhere in his mind that registered, but he could not respond. A sob; she buried her face against his shoulder, tightened her arms. Her heartbeat pattered against him, a bird wild in a cage. He had never been pressed against her like this before. Once, in a tree out in that bigass forest, they'd had to shelter together out of the rain when they got separated from the others, when visibility had been low and titans everywhere. Cold, they'd had to huddle for warmth, but he'd held onto her through layers of clothing and prayed that his thoughts wouldn't tend to anything too erotic—she might feel his desire. No, he'd never really held her before. Not like this. Not like now.

She was alive, and he tentatively put his hands on her, returned her embrace as carefully as he'd enter a stream just after the spring thaw. When his hands closed on her back, and he felt her bare skin, he shut his eyes. He had never touched her so intimately before.

Had he been frightened about something? About what? For a few seconds, every thought but her went out of his mind. She was his new, favorite reality.

"I got you. I got you," he murmured, pulling her against him. Petra took a deep breath, her body expanding in his arms, and then gave some kind of long, weeping sigh. Relief mingling with stress. Levi held her close, his hand moving up and down her back. He wanted to lean his own head against her shoulder. The rose perfume of her hair soothed him, enveloped him. She pulled back, and her cheek grazed his once more. Levi could not help the way his breath stuttered at that touch.

He entertained the idea of picking her up and carrying her away from here, taking her to some parlor where a servant would bring them tea, and he'd soothe her. Kiss her eyelids, the tip of her nose. The snow would fall outside the windows, and she'd be safe in his arms. Never leave them again. The radical idea of carrying her everywhere from now on, never letting her feet touch the ground, seemed, for half a second, perfectly normal.

She was all right. If Petra was all right, then the world could continue. He'd allow it.

"Captain. Thank you," she whispered. She pulled back to face him, her amber eyes swimming in tears, pale cheeks streaked from the bleed of her cosmetics. Crying. Why should she ever cry?

But he could not even focus on that, because the way she was looking at him…

The glimpses of desire he'd seen in her expression from time to time, the wishful glances that he half-hoped, half-feared would disappear, had transformed. This situation, whatever he'd walked in on, whatever he was getting her out of, had shattered all previous restraint. Her lips parted, her eyes traced his face. Levi had never seen a woman look at him like this before—like he was all she wanted in the world. He understood, then, that all he had to do was take her away from here and she would burrow herself against him. Everything he'd ever been afraid to ask her, she'd tell him freely. Not that they were gonna find a closet to fuck in or anything like that, fuck no, but the words would pass her lips. I want you. Whatever happens, I want you.

She _wanted_ him. Cared for him. Loved being held by him. Desired him.

And finally, all it needed to bloom was a word on his part.

He swallowed. "You…you okay?"

"I am now," she whispered. Her lips twitched with an attempt at a smile.

"I. Fuck. I was…worried," he muttered. Even now, admitting any kind of weakness made him want to turn away from her.

"Me too," she whispered. Her hand found his, her thumb stroked his palm. That touch alone unraveled him, and there would be so many more now. "Please. Let's go."

In this perfect dream, Levi had her fingers entwined in his, her eyes lovingly searching his eyes.

But as he emerged from that dream, Levi studied her more closely. Saw more than just her smile and her beautiful eyes. Saw other things. Noticed other things.

Like the way the right side of her face was beginning to swell with the faint outline of a handprint.

Like the dotted pattern of emerging bruises on her cheeks.

Like the…blood…at her breast. Levi stared, not giving a damn if it was immodest or some shit. Those…those were teeth marks. On her breast.

And the way she struggled to hold her dress up revealed that—yes, someone had unbuttoned her. His eyes flicked to the bottom of her dress, a part of it torn and trailing after her. Someone had stepped on that.

Someone had been hurting her. Hurting her in a very specific way.

Levi felt the ecstasy drain out of him, as if his soul had been boiled and all the impurities removed. Now, he was a simple machine. Inside that dark room, he heard the groans of men. She'd put them in their place, apparently. Of course she had. She was strong. Willful. Courageous as hell.

But she didn't have his special touch, and that's what these pigs needed right now.

A lesson. Fuck talking. Fuck negotiating. Fuck everything that wasn't pain.

"It's all right, Petra." His voice sounded cool now. Good. No more of this frightened schoolboy with a crush shit. He patted her arm, and stepped aside. "Go find Oruo, and he'll take you downstairs to the guys."

"Sir? Come with me." She tugged at his elbow, but he slipped out of her grasp and walked into the darkness. "Captain! Please. I took care of it already."

"I'll be right there."

"Captain!"

"Petra. Do as I say," he snapped, not turning back to look at her. Right now, with his mission in mind, she was only an inconvenience. Those large eyes of hers, those parted lips, her sweet arms around his neck, they didn't tempt him now. Nothing except blood could excite him.

"N-No! No, sir."

"Then stay. It's up to you," he growled, approaching the man rolling around by the side of the bed. "But keep out of my way."

Some bastard, probably an MP, whined as Levi rolled him over with his foot. The guy gaped up at Levi, hands on either side of his head.

"What did you do to her?" Levi growled.

"C-Captain…Levi?" Now the man tried to scramble up, making soft, choking noises as he did so. "I, I didn't know. If I'd known—"

"If you'd known she's on my squad, you wouldn't have tried to rape her?" Even _he_ was impressed by how cold his voice had gotten.

"Not me! Not me! He, he made me—"

Right, Levi didn't even need to look to check where this scum was pointing. The large, groaning shape on the floor by the foot of the bed had to be Karl Morgenstern. There'd be time for that in a minute. Business first.

Levi had always saved the best parts of his meal for last.

"I look like I give a _fuck_ about your reasons why, shitmouth?" Levi smiled, a brief pull of lips, then raised his foot and slammed it down on the guy's head. The man's body spasmed as if he'd been shocked by an electric current, then went limp. Groaning, the guy lay there in agony as Levi picked his way back around to the foot of the bed, to Karl. Had he heard some kind of noise out of Petra when he smashed the guy?

Did he fucking care right now? All he knew was that she'd been hit, and stripped, and _bitten_. Treated like an animal.

He was no kind of man if he let that go unanswered.

"Get up, you lousy piece of shit," Levi said to his maybe-half-brother. Levi cleared his throat as he unbuttoned his jacket, folded it neatly, and placed it on the bed. "Get up. Don't make me drag you up by your balls. I've done it to better men than you."

"Captain. What…a pleasure." Karl Morgenstern gave a thick, juicy snort—sounded like he was talking through his nose. When the larger man got up off the floor and faced him, Levi learned what the hell was up. The lord's otherwise perfect face had a giant, squashed bruise of a nose now. Petra's handiwork, undoubtedly. Good girl. "I'd been hoping…for a visit." Snorting, Morgenstern straightened. Nose aside, he seemed to still be in fighting condition. Good.

"Oh, you're getting one, pig." Levi began rolling his sleeves. Morgenstern snorted, then winced; apparently that hurt now.

"Gearing up for the fight, I see."

"No. I just hate getting my clothes dirty. Blood's difficult to get out," he said. "Now. Before I take your fucking head off, I'd like to know why." His temper flared, but he quashed it. His voice never got above its normal volume. They might have been conversing downstairs in the corner of the damn party. "Why did you go after my subordinate?"

"The fact she's a delectable little piece of ass isn't answer enough?"

Levi was angry, but he was not stupid. This guy wanted something, something from Levi specifically. Trying to goad him into a calculated response.

"I'm gonna guess your uncle told you something about me." Levi gritted his teeth. He still did not want Petra to know about his potential connection to the Morgensterns—he wasn't even certain she was still here. He wouldn't turn and look. If he did, and he saw horror or fear in her face, it could throw him off. Make him question what he was doing.

"Something like that," Karl hissed.

"And you wanted to get me up here, why? So you could fight it out? Huh? Winner gets the whole fuckin' thing?"

"I must say, Captain, you are remarkably perceptive," Karl drawled. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he got into an excellent fighting stance. Clearly, the lord had been trained well. "Your underground upbringing aside, you must be a man of remarkable intelligence. Probably got it from my father." He lowered his voice. "That whore mother of yours was likely good for only a few specific needs."

The inside of Levi's mind became quiet, the sound of the snowfall outside the window.

"Ah," he said, and stepped forward. Karl swung at him, and he bent backwards, letting the blow sail directly over his head. Levi pulled his arm back, and struck Karl directly in the center of his stomach. It was a hit at only about half of Levi's strength. If he'd gone all in, it might have killed the young lord. Levi wasn't looking to kill him.

Not yet.

Karl doubled over and dropped to his knees. He opened his mouth, and a patter of vomit hit the floor. Levi wrinkled his nose at the bilious stink of it.

"Tch. Disgusting," he muttered, pacing back and forth in front of Karl while he spat. "On your feet. I'm not done yet."

"Y-You are an animal," Karl Morgenstern groaned.

"Probably," Levi agreed, and grabbed Karl by his thick hair, yanking the man's head up. "Consider this the brotherly asskicking I never got to give you when we were kids."

Karl snarled, and swiped at him. Levi easily evaded his grasp, but startled backwards when the lord leapt to his feet and swung hard. Fuck. He was faster than Levi had anticipated, and Levi grunted as Karl got him in the side of the face. Staggering to the left, Levi worked his jaw and shook out his head. Idiot. He'd been too angry, and too sure of himself.

It had been years since he'd truly fought another human being. He never got into physical fights with his comrades, and most everyone tiptoed around him anyway. He was Humanity's Strongest, the guy destined to save them from the titans and grant them a future. That was his title, wasn't it? His role?

For someone who'd grown up on the streets, sticking his knife into sternums from the time he was twelve, smashing heads to get his share of underhanded deals, the position of a hero had been unexpected. But he'd taken to it, he realized, because it gave him a little bit of pride. A little bit of a reason to live.

But sometimes when that darkness rose up within him and looked out of his eyes, Levi would want to cut a few throats again. Just to know that he was still untouchable. Still his own man.

"Good. I'll give you that," Levi said approvingly as Karl turned, on his feet again and ready to fight. "You're a bruiser, aren't you?"

"I was trained to fight all types of bastards," his maybe-brother said. Levi wondered if they might've gotten along, had their introduction been less…well, this.

He narrowed his eyes. Eh. Probably not. Levi didn't much like new people, especially rich ones.

"See, that's the difference between us. You were trained to fight." He stepped to the left. "I fought to survive."

"The difference?"

"Fucking huge." Levi lunged to the right, moving quickly now. He knew from experience, from being told, that he could move at speeds that appeared superhuman to the naked eye. Karl made a befuddled noise as Levi got around him and knocked the lord's legs out from underneath. Karl made an 'oof' noise as he fell to the ground, wincing as he collapsed on his tailbone. Levi stood above him now, triumphant.

He could deliver one quick jab to the broken nose and walk away, honor satisfied.

But that wouldn't be nearly enough fun.

"The man who raised me taught me this move," he growled. "Lemme 'train' you how to use it, little brother."

Levi's signature kick had been out of practice for years, but he remembered it with an absolute fluid ease. He kicked Karl hard, his leg flying out. Then, before the man could catch his breath, Levi began stomping him into the ground. Stomp. Stomp. The man wheezed and gave a high, strangled cry as Levi proceeded to beat him into the carpet. Levi felt warm blood spatter on his cheek; disgusting. But there would be time to clean.

Always time to clean.

As he trampled the young lord, Levi's mind floated away, observed all this from a safe distance. Levi had never been any kind of "good man" in his underground days, but he'd liked to think he wasn't an asshole, either. He had never stolen from people who needed what little they had to survive. He'd fought women before, sure, but he never went out of his way to target them. The men he'd seen who _did_ go around strongarming girls into doing things for—and to—them had usually met the edge of Levi's blade. He recalled murdering a pair of shits who'd cut Isabel's pigtail off. Even as he was stabbing them to death, he'd wondered in some quiet part of his mind if he was overreacting.

If this wasn't how a psychopath justified himself.

But Levi could not help the ecstasy he felt now as he beat this man into the ground, because the fucker deserved it.

But his calm was shattered when Karl spat blood and…laughed.

The fucker was laughing.

Frowning, Levi leaned in over the asshole. "What are you laughing at? You reek of shit. How is that funny?"

"You…are…a fool," Karl rasped. He grinned, his teeth mottled with blood. "Did you…think…I had no…plan?"

"Huh?"

And then, Levi understood.

Karl had never expected to win this fight against Humanity's Strongest. He'd planned to goad Levi into violence, then have him detained by the MPs. After all, if Levi went to prison for assault against a member of the aristocracy, he couldn't inherit the title or the land.

Maybe that's why the two MPs had been here to begin with. As witnesses.

Torture his subordinate to get to him, then endure an ass kicking. Kinda smart, if a little masochistic.

"I get it. I get it." Levi jerked his chin. "Now I'm off to prison, and you're lord of the manor. Right?"

Karl wheezed as Levi drew nearer. He got almost nose to nose.

"You made one mistake, though." Levi's nostrils flared. "How can you be the lord if you're fucking dead?"

Karl's eyes widened. "Th-they'd hang you."

"You bit her. Didn't you? You were going to rape her. You treated her like she was an _animal_."

Karl must have seen, then, what was in Levi's heart. Must have read it in his eyes. The lord moaned, and his head jerked. To hurt one of Levi's subordinates or comrades? That required an ass kicking of epic proportions.

To hurt the woman he loved? That was a lethal move.

"I didn't understand. I didn't understand. I, I can help you." Karl clutched at Levi's leg as he stood, gazed down at the lord. "I'll brush this off. You won't go to prison. Y-You can have the estate. Whatever you want."

"I want to break you under my foot," Levi said, marveling at the flat, disinterested sound of his voice. "That's all I need."

And with that, he got to work.

Karl's face became a bloody mass. His eyes closed, eyelids swelling to almost comical proportions. Teeth scattered across the ground. The young man, his handsomeness now erased forever, whimpered and gradually stopped clawing at Levi for mercy. His arms raised over his head with every jump, every kick, every stomp, Levi felt as if he were running down a hill and into a valley, the sun at his back, the world rejoicing around him.

It felt so fucking _good._

So good to let himself go on a piece of shit like this. So good to protect Petra, to avenge her. And the tightness in his balls as he laid Karl Morgenstern to waste reminded him that this man had had Petra sprawled out on the bed. Had been undressing her. Had probably been close to penetrating her. And his own frustrated desire, the fact that he had never been allowed to take her to bed like that, finally spilled over inside of him. The desperate longing for her body drove him forward, let him take out his pent up lust on this man's flesh. His bones cracked in an orgasmic symphony of noise. Again. And again. Levi grabbed Karl by his collar, yanked the nearly unconscious man's face to meet his. Blood drooled from the side of the man's mouth.

"You idiot. You thought you could do this to me? To her? Idiot!" He smashed Karl's head back against the floor, and raised his foot. Yes, a quick stomp to the throat. The crunch of the windpipe. The final, uneasy gurgles as life fled the body.

Pain. Levi was a messenger of pain. An avenging angel for his woman, even if she could never really be his…unless she could. Unless he slaughtered his rival and became lord, and then she'd really be his. How could she not want that kind of power? How could she—

"Stop!" Sobbing voice in his ear. Hands yanked at his shoulders, pulled him off the young lord. Levi grunted as he spun around, and found Petra. She held up her hands, trembling as she looked on him. "Stop, Captain! You'll kill him!" she screamed.

Levi grunted, and took a step forward. As he did, Petra shrieked again and stumbled backwards, hands out in front of her.

A protective gesture.

She was protecting herself…from him.

Levi paused, and looked down at his hands. Blood splattered up his arms, elbow deep, staining his shirt. His knuckles had split, and were bleeding. Drip, drip, drops of blood pattered on the carpet from his hands.

And Petra. She was on the ground, hands out, defending herself against the beast he'd become.

There was no light in her expression now. No desire in her gaze. Fear and disgust had replaced those sentiments.

He revolted her. He frightened her.

He had killed the love in her eyes.

Levi let his hands drop to his sides.

"I would never hurt you," he croaked. Petra's eyes widened in terror.

If a man had to say that to a woman, it was already too late.

She sat there, weeping, as men began to rush into the room. Levi barely noticed the Military Police as they surrounded him. As they ordered him to put up his hands. Karl moaned and wheezed behind him. He let the MPs bind his arms and lead him out of the room. He caught flashes of Petra as he walked out, Oruo suddenly there and comforting her, rocking her in his arms as she sobbed bitterly. He did not think to look back at Karl; at least he'd left the lord breathing.

It didn't matter, though. Levi had killed one of the few things in this world that had any value to him.

She'd looked at him with such _fear._

 _I would never hurt you._

She'd tried to pull him off, to lead him away from vengeance and into her arms, but he had needed to take those steps into that dark room. He'd needed Karl's blood under his fingernails. He'd gotten what he wanted.

He'd lost everything.

"I need to clean up," he muttered. No one listened to him.

Time passed, though he did not know or care how much. He was sitting in a small room, some kind of parlor. How many damn parlors did one house need? This room had red walls, and a fire in the hearth. A few MPs were stationed around him, none of them in their uniforms. Everyone watched him out the corner of their eyes, like he was going to suddenly get up and start kicking asses.

Likely, Levi was going to prison. Erwin was going to be shorthanded. Levi closed his eyes. As bad as hurting Petra had been, disappointing Erwin was equally going to rip Levi's guts out. Why? Why did he keep doing this to the people he cared for the most?

A door opened, and that wispy looking punk Nile showed up. Erwin's rival, his old friend from training days. Tch. Levi knew that they'd both shared the same woman at one point. How any woman could want a milksop like Nile over Erwin Fucking Smith, he'd never know. Clearly, he did not understand women.

Clearly.

"Where's my squad?" Levi muttered when Nile pulled up a chair opposite him, looking grave. "Where's Erwin?"

"Captain Levi. It is my duty to inform you that you have violated one of the central tenets of our society. These actions cannot be condoned. You understand what I'm telling you?"

"Apparently you didn't hear me," Levi growled. Looked like beating up on a rich guy amounted to violating a sacred law, or some shit. "Where's my squad and Erwin?"

"Commander Smith is being informed of your current situation. Your three men are awaiting his arrival."

Levi frowned. "Three?"

"The fourth, Petra Ral, has been detained as an accomplice."

No. No. Levi clenched his teeth and rose to his feet. Everyone's breath in the room quickened; he heard it happen in unison. Nile placed his hand on the arm of his chair, ready to spring up.

"Accomplice to what? That shitbrained Morgenstern guy tried raping her," he growled.

"That is all speculative." Nile watched him warily; the guy spoke like some mealy-mouthed teacher at the front of a classroom, trying to drill big words into his students' heads. "It has been speculated that Miss Ral arranged a tryst with Lord Karl of her own accord. You found them out, and in a jealous rage—"

"That is horseshit. And even if it weren't, how's that make her an accomplice to kicking some rich guy's ass? Worst you can do is lock me up for a couple months, isn't it?" Levi leaned nearer to Nile. He had never liked this weedy guy, but now he downright despised him. "He was assaulting my subordinate. Maybe I went too far, and the bastard won't be pretty again, but—"

"You must be joking," Nile said flatly. Levi blinked.

"What're you talking about?" Dread began to build in his throat. Come to think of it, why…why were there so many MPs around this room?

"You murdered him, Captain." Nile scowled. "Lord Karl Morgenstern is dead."


	9. Chapter 9

When the old man sat down across from him, Levi was prepared to offer his soul. Whatever was required, he'd pay it. Not for himself, but for her. The image of Petra standing on a scaffold, rope tied around her delicate neck, and the awful _ka-thunk_ of the trap door falling open beneath her feet and dropping her into a sharp plunge with a snap at the end of it had wiped away his pride. As a thug in the underground, Levi had always had it in the back of his mind that one day the Military Police would catch up with him. That one day, he'd have his date with the hangman. He'd always been prepared for that eventuality, even after he'd gone topside and been deemed Humanity's Strongest.

But Petra Ral had not been born merely to die at the end of a noose. He'd make sure of it.

"So," Lord Siegfried said as he gruntingly settled his ass into a chair. A steel gray eyebrow raised.

"What can this lord business do for me?" Levi's hands were clasped; the manacles at his wrists chafed a little, but he didn't want those MP shitstains to notice. Everyone in this room was looking at him with wrinkled noses, like he smelled foul. Fuckers.

"Beg pardon?"

"If I get the title, or am next in line, I know it probably won't save my life. Even though you rich assh…guys…are good at getting out of bad situations, that's not what I want. If I murdered someone, I ought to pay for it." Even if that someone had been a fucking rapist. Levi clenched his jaw. "But the girl who's involved, she's completely innocent. What can the Morgenstern title do for her?"

Siegfried blinked, and stroked an idle thumb along his chin, over and over again. The seconds drained away. Levi was starting to feel punchy.

"I believe Karl Morgenstern's removal from this world to be nothing but a benefit," Siegfried said, his voice light. Levi huffed out in relief. Privately, he'd been afraid the guy was going to be sore about this.

"So."

"And I would expect nothing less of you than his murder. After all." Here, the lord gave a slow, creeping smile. "You are some underground whore's bastard get."

With that, the lord rose, his eyes boring into Levi's.

"I take it you're not gonna help me, then?" he growled.

"I should sooner slit my own wrists." Siegfried sniffed. "Vulgar, criminal filth."

And the man waltzed right out the door and back into his party. Levi sat back in the chair, working his jaw. Probably shouldn't have expected anything else; after all, the man's hatred of his nephew aside, they were still family. But something rang false inside of Levi's gut, the sense that he had missed something much earlier than this.

And there was something…happy…in the way Levi felt now. He owed these Morgenstern shits nothing. Expected nothing from them.

It was a bit like getting out of prison, even if he was physically nearer to it than ever before.

The MPs continued to watch Levi from their positions all around the room. Seven men altogether, all wearing blank expressions…but Levi wasn't fooled. Whenever he coughed, or raised his bound hands to itch at his nose, they'd jerk forward as if goosed by lightning. They were on edge, these pigs.

Even though they were all technically on the same side now, Levi would always draw a line between himself and the MPs. He had spent his life running from them. Apparently he'd been born in a jail cell, his pregnant mother cuffed and thrown in there as part of a systematic raid on the whorehouse; occasionally the MPs would flaunt the crown's virtue by making a show of locking up "degenerates" like Kuchel and the other prostitutes. They'd let the women out after a few days, of course, usually after they'd had their way with some of them. But that's where Levi had drawn his first breath: in some shitty cell, Kuchel probably weeping with the pain, no doctor coming to help her.

No. No, he would always hate these pigs for that.

The door opened again, and Levi instantly recognized the tall, blond man.

"Erwin," he breathed. An almost childlike relief, coupled with a deep sense of shame clashed within him. Levi turned his face away and studied the weave of the carpet as Erwin sat down opposite him. "Sorry," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I fucked up."

"It would appear so." No malice in the Commander's voice. No reprimand. No disappointment. Merely that thoughtful, rumbling baritone stating the facts as they presented themselves. Levi couldn't bear to look up.

"Listen. I know I'm going to swing for this, but Petra." Only the girl could force Levi to look up at the man—the god—he'd disappointed. Erwin's clear, direct gaze met his. There was nothing so human as reproach or confusion in the Commander's eyes. "She's the victim here. Don't let them—"

"I will do everything in my power to secure her release, Levi. You should know that." There. The tiniest disappointment, the first crack in the marble. Erwin was not angry that Levi had stomped a man to fucking death; no, he was hurt that Levi had assumed he would need to instruct Erwin in anything at all. Idiot. Levi was a fool.

He narrowed his eyes. "That's the only part of this I regret. Her involvement."

"I told you once never to regret anything."

"Tonight I'm not sure any human can really do that."

"I can."

"Like I said." Small smirk. "Any _human._ "

The touch of a smile from Erwin now. Levi did not have much to be proud of, but he had always prided himself on the ability to loosen the Commander up. Didn't make much sense, the least charismatic, funny man in the entire Corps lightening Erwin up. Then again, nothing in this damn world made sense.

What he wouldn't give to be just the two of them in Erwin's office or chamber now, sharing some tea, discussing the flaws in the new recruits, discussing the new strategy. Sometimes, when he was tired, Erwin might go off about some book he had read, some new idea that was bumping at the edges of his mind. Levi would never have anything to contribute, but listening to the quiet, oiled churning of that mind always soothed him. It was like his mother's voice singing him to sleep, or Kenny sitting at the kitchen table and drinking while Levi lay in bed. The idea that someone was protecting him, that was the sense he got from watching Erwin at work. Levi had little experience of that blissful state.

"I'm sorry I have to leave you shorthanded." Levi's stomach soured. "Sorry I can't be there when you save humanity, bring all the titans to heel."

"There is no salvation without you, Levi." Erwin did not seem panicked, or particularly concerned. Again, those freaking enormous eyebrows knit, and those blue eyes of his patiently scrutinized Levi. "Are you so determined to go to the gallows, then?"

"I killed him, Erwin. Didn't mean to, but I did. The Morgensterns aren't going to help." Erwin said nothing, but his breathing changed. "Fuck them anyway, I don't want it. But without them, you can't get me out of here. Not without fucking yourself over in some way."

"Whatever happened to that man I met in the underground? The one who stole from the merchants, leapt through windows, flew through the air? The man who thumbed his nose at authority?"

Levi sniffed. "You tamed him, I guess."

"No one can ever tame you, Levi. Not any man living."

 _Maybe a woman…_

Levi let that idea fall. He'd ruined everything for her already. She'd seen him as he truly was, and her girlish affection had evaporated. It was a relief, really. If he could save Petra's life, she'd be free of him forever.

"You telling me to run, Erwin? Sure these kids would love to give me a chase." The two men glanced about the room. The MPs looked ready to piss themselves. Beautiful sight.

"No. No, you're quite right, actually." Erwin laced his fingers together. "You must be brought to answer for your crimes."

"Yeah." He frowned. "But not Petra. Like I said, she's the victim."

"Indeed. Both Lord Karl's and yours, if I'm not mistaken." Erwin nodded. "Shame. That poor girl. First she's assaulted by that reprobate, then she must stand by and watch you resort to your old, base instincts."

Fuck, he didn't have to rub it in that hard, did he?

Levi grunted in acknowledgement, and Erwin continued.

"After all, to beat a man is one thing. But to stab him to death?" Erwin clucked his tongue. "You haven't used your knife on a man in some time. It showed."

Levi blinked. Something snagged in his brain, realigned itself.

"Stabbed?"

At least they'd buttoned up the back of her dress. Now Petra sat in a room with three Military Police, rubbing at her bare arms to get some warmth back. No one offered a jacket, or anything like a hot drink. The three men regarded her with looks pitched somewhere between lustful interest and derision.

After all, she'd been implicated in a murder. And a nobleman's murder at that.

"Whore" someone had breathed as he passed her by. Petra felt fury rising within her, but said nothing. She was too damn tired, and sore, and…miserable.

She'd watched the captain turn into a monster. When Karl had had her on her back, prepared to violate her, she'd prayed that someone would find them and kill the bastard. But those idle wishes changed once she saw her prayers realized.

His face. Levi's face, usually so stoic, had morphed into something alive and fiendish. His gray eyes lightening, his teeth clenched, he'd never looked happier.

He'd enjoyed beating that man to death. And even though it had been on her behalf, to avenge her—and Petra was intensely grateful for that, always would be—remembering that look made her want to vomit.

The door opened, and Petra gave a cry of relief as the guys from her squad shuffled in. The MPs didn't move to stop her as she stood and flung herself forward. No one was worried she'd make a run for it.

"Petra." Eld embraced her, then held her at arm's length and studied her. His jaw tightened with what he found, and he looked away. Eld had always been the type to put duty above everything else, to repress his emotions in order to get the job done—rather like the captain. But Petra's bruises had apparently shaken that resolve.

Gunther was next, a quick hug and a small kiss on the crown of her head. Then Oruo, who'd been the one to find her and hold onto her in that room, with the captain and Lord Karl and all the blood…

"What's going on?" Petra sniffed; she wasn't going to cry in front of the guys. She refused.

"I think the Commander believes he can get you out of this." Eld closed his eyes. "But the captain's another story."

No. No. Fear gripped her. Even if Levi had…changed…in her eyes now, Petra instantly rushed to defend him. He was a hero…of a certain kind, at least. If these fancy, stupid people from the interior wanted to hang him for rescuing her from a beast, then they deserved to be eaten by titans, the whole lot of them.

"He went too far with the kicking, I know. But he did it to protect me." She swallowed. "He got carried away."

"So carried away that he stabbed the guy to death?" Gunther sighed, rubbed the back of his head. "Maybe they could've bought that story if the captain had just kicked him to death, but grabbing a damn letter opener off the desk and using it—"

Petra blinked. "Excuse me?"

The guys stilled. Petra watched as glances darted between the three of them, and it made her angry. She hated being on the outside of anything.

"They found the bloody letter opener next to the body. He'd been stabbed four or five times in the chest." Eld tilted his head. "That makes it cold-blooded murder."

"That's impossible. At least, impossible for the captain to have done it." None of this was making sense. Petra shook her head. "I saw the whole thing." She recalled, then, the opener whittled from bone on the desk. "He never went near the desk, and he never got a weapon. Wait. Someone _stabbed_ Karl?"

Silence. The four of them made a tight little circle in the room, much as they did when discussing the captain's strategies. Them against the world.

"I didn't see anything when I came in." Oruo sniffed; sounded like he'd been on the verge of tears. "I…I can't say either way."

"I can." Petra turned to Eld and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Something's going on around here. I know the captain didn't do… _that_."

"But there's no way to prove it, other than your word." Eld frowned. "And they won't buy that."

Damn. Damn. Petra wanted to scream, beat her fists against something, swear and break a damn window or some furniture. Her teeth clenched. The captain. She had to protect him, save him from the vultures circling overhead. Someone had set him up. But who? And why?

She thought it through. She had seen the captain strike that bastard MP who'd held her down. The man had been unconscious for all the rest of Karl Morgenstern's ordeal. That left only her, and Karl, and…

"Oh." Petra's eyes widened. "I think…I think someone else might have seen the whole thing."

The three again shot a look amongst themselves.

"Who?" Gunther whispered.

"So." Erwin nodded.

"So." Levi blinked.

They had sat in absolute silence for the past minute. Stabbed. So. Karl Morgenstern had been stabbed.

And Levi knew for a damn fact he had not been the one to do the stabbing.

That created a whole new set of wrinkles, didn't it?

Erwin and Levi had sat in silence, but Levi had felt that invisible thread between them tighten. They were both thinking the same, goading one another toward the same conclusion.

"I should go and see Petra." The Commander stood. "She'll be two doors down, I think."

"Ah. Say hi for me."

"Certainly."

Erwin's blink indicated that they understood one another. He left, and Levi remained behind with these seven little boys looking ready to piss themselves in fear. The clock ticked. Levi shifted in his seat, his chained wrists rattling with the effort.

He scanned the room, and picked out the smallest guy among the MPs.

"Excuse me. Can I ask you a question?" Levi said. The guy turned eyes to him.

"S-Sure."

A pregnant pause. The silence in the room became sharp, dagger-like.

"How much do you weigh?"

Several bewildered glances fluttered this way and that.

"Um. Hundred and sixty? I think?"

"Nice. Okay." Levi kicked back, jerked his chin. "Nice jacket. I really like the blue cuffs."

"Th-thanks."

Again, they sat in that ever-sharpening silence.

"You're sure about this, Petra?" Eld whispered. She was practically bouncing on her heels.

"You have to find him. The captain never noticed him, so he'd have seen everything." Gregor. That bastard. She was so, so glad she hadn't knocked him unconscious. "At the very least, he can agree with what I saw. The captain never went near a weapon."

Someone was playing with Captain Levi's life, and she would not let it stand. Not while she still drew breath.

"Okay." Eld nodded slowly. Then, he smiled. "The Commander told us what to do."

Petra frowned. "Excuse me?"

Eld leaned closer and whispered. "He told us that if you said the captain hadn't stabbed anyone, that you should wait. Wait, and someone will come to get you soon."

Mystified, she nodded. "A-All right."

"It's gonna be okay, Pet." Gunther squeezed her elbow, and followed Eld out of the room. Oruo wavered, clearly searching for something to say. Then, giving up, he turned and followed the guys. Petra was left to sit here with these three men glaring at her, heart racing, trying to discern the truth of whatever had just happened.

Who was coming to get her? What was the Commander up to now?

Petra sat back down, and waited. And waited. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed, and she began to grow restless. She kicked her heels under her dress again and again. She did feel some relief; if the Commander was involved, there were more than a few moves they hadn't yet exhausted. No matter the circumstances, Erwin Smith always seemed capable of outmaneuvering his enemies. No wonder the captain trusted him so thoroughly.

The captain. Thoughts of him stirred a strange combination of emotions. He was her hero, the man who'd stormed in to avenge her; he was a beast, a creature that had caused pain for the sake of enjoyment. Her love was still there, but uncertain on its own feet. What was it that she loved, anyway? A phantom? Was she in love with the idea of the man, not him as he was?

Petra shook her head. She could worry about that much later, when Levi was set free. When these bastards knew that he hadn't stabbed Karl Morgenstern to death.

A flash of movement through the window caught Petra's eye. She turned in time to see some person hurtle towards them. Her mouth fell open as she leapt to her feet.

"Oh!" she cried as a limp body came crashing through the window, shattering the glass so that it rained onto the carpet. The body—a man in his shirtsleeves, without a jacket—rolled across the floor and then stopped. He was breathing, but unconscious. The MPs around her barked orders to one another, and screamed as another man appeared in the window.

Captain Levi.

Faster than she could think, Petra watched as the captain dove into the room. The MPs fumbled at belts for their weapons, but they shouldn't have bothered. Within instants, they were all on the ground, moaning with broken and bloody noses or bruised jaws. Petra stumbled to her feet as the captain turned to her.

He was dressed in a jacket with blue cuffs, she noticed. Not his.

"Tch. Are you ready?" He came to her, and Petra was too entranced by the wild light in his eyes to quail or shy away. He drew close to her. Petra felt weak with amazement; he'd literally thrown a man through a window, then incapacitated three others in a matter of seconds.

 _He's a beast_ , she remembered. But she could not be afraid of him.

He had sworn, after all, that he would never hurt her.

"Ready for what?" she murmured.

"Ready to run."

"They'll catch us."

"We won't run far. Trust me."

Trust him? Yes, with her life. Always. Petra felt entranced; there was nothing this man could ask that she would not do, it seemed. There was a light in those gray eyes of his now, something wild and alive as she'd never seen him before. Perhaps those rumors about Levi's past criminal life were true; perhaps there was a part of him that only awakened when there was a law to break.

The most principled and orderly man she'd ever met was also the most lawless. No wonder he excited her.

No wonder she feared him.

"Pick out which jacket you'd like." He gestured to the men rolling around on the ground. "I know it'll be big, but it's cold outside. Oh." He turned back to her. "And look for the guy with the smallest feet."

"What?"

"The boots." He nodded somberly. "We're gonna need to make tracks."


	10. Chapter 10

Petra chased her captain across the estate's park, headed for the dark forest beyond. She kept her skirts snatched up to avoid trailing in the snow. The crunch of her boots, and the huff of her breath were the only sounds. The boots she'd stolen off one of the men were obviously too big, but she'd double tied the laces at her ankles to keep them from slipping off, and the man's jacket had deep enough pockets to hold her own heeled shoes. She didn't want to leave those behind. They were her best pair. Well. Her only pair.

Of course, if the captain and she couldn't find a way to turn this whole mess of an evening around, she wouldn't have anywhere to wear them ever again.

 _Well, maybe to my execution._

That was not funny. At all.

Ahead of her, Levi led the path into the forest. The idea was for them to trample around, make it impossible to tell whose footprints were whose. The MPs who came looking for them wouldn't know which to chase.

As the captain had said, "We have to improvise this part, Ral."

Well, she was doing her best.

Petra skidded to a halt as a man lunged at the captain from out of the trees, zooming down on ODM gear. What was he doing with _that_ gear at a fancy ball?

Of course, Petra cursed to herself as she tried to figure out what to do. It was custom at large gatherings in Wall Sina to have at least a few guard in ODM gear, a symbolic gesture in case of a titan attack. She nearly fell onto her side as she tried to turn about, but she shouldn't have worried. With a growl, the captain leapt and knocked the man to his knees, then incapacitated him. While the poor man groaned, Levi unbuckled the ODM equipment, and nodded to Petra.

"Go ahead, into the forest. Run a ways in, turn, and run back this way. Meet my footprints where they vanish. I'll wait for you."

She didn't question. She merely did her job.

"Yes, sir." Heart racing, she galloped deeper into the forest, glancing about wildly at the dark overhead branches in case any other MPs happened to be waiting. Her breath clouded as she came to a halt, and looked back. Torches dotted the snowy lawn now, torches carried by men. They were coming into the forest, looking for the escaped pair. If they caught her…

 _The captain will take care of this._

Petra sprinted to the left, and then down, racing along the forest path. Moonlight streaked through the trees to give her an idea of where to go. She prayed that there were no deep drifts for her to stumble into and disappear.

Petra gasped in relief when she saw the captain's footprints ahead. They'd stopped dead in the snow, like he said they would. She met and merged hers with his, gripped her shoulders (she was freezing now) and looked about.

"Sir?" she whispered, then flinched as torchlight began to grow nearer to her hiding spot. A minute more, and the men would find her. Where was the captain? Petra gritted her teeth, praying they wouldn't start chattering. Where, where was he? If she wanted to get away, she needed to run now.

But…she had told him she would wait.

So. She would wait, even as the voices drew nearer, and the crunch of boots on the snow grew louder. Petra closed her eyes, and let them come.

The sound of a motor behind her, and the whirr of a cable. Petra felt strong arms wrap around her waist, and a man's warm breath against the back of her neck. She was lifted off the ground and shot fifty feet or so into the air in an instant. The world, and the men, and her fears shrank from one heartbeat to the next. She smiled as her feet touched down upon a tree branch.

"Try to keep still," the captain whispered as he helped her gently turn to face him. Out of necessity, he kept his arms around her. "If we shake snow off these damn branches, they might notice."

"H-How long should we stay here?" She didn't mean to shiver. It was the cold, mostly. The cold and…being held like this. Her face was mere inches from his face, and the captain looked her right in the eyes as he spoke.

"Until we get the signal." He gave a slight nod towards the mansion behind her. "When the guys have your witness, they're going to get him to the upstairs, take the room on the far left of the north-facing side. They'll light a candle in the window."

"The guys? My witness?"

"That shitty guy you were in the training corps with, Gregor."

"How…how do you _know_ all of this?" Petra didn't add his honorific, but right now she was too confused to be formal.

And so he told her. He told her how Erwin and the rest of Squad Levi had come up with the plan. How Levi, on Erwin's subtle signal, had knocked out the guards in his room. How Eld and the others had snuck in, told him the rest of the Commander's plan with regards to the asswipe, Gregor. (Asswipe was the captain's word, though she agreed it fit well.)

"So we're going to meet up with the others when they have Gregor, and force him to tell who actually killed Lord Karl?" she whispered.

"Exactly. Though apparently Erwin thinks that the killer won't be the only one to blame."

Petra frowned. "I don't understand."

"I've barely got a handle on the whole thing myself. This family's fucked up in ways I thought only existed in one of your little stories."

"My stories?"

"You know, the ones you tell to the guys by the fire sometime. The goblins, the ghosts, the dead kings. All that shit, er, stuff."

Petra couldn't help her smile. "I thought you called it "brat stuff" sir."

"Well. I get bored sometimes. Maybe I listen. Occasionally."

"You could always stop in and listen with the rest of them," she murmured. "Have some coffee. Or we could even make tea." To that, the captain merely turned his eyes away. Probably looking to the window, waiting for the signal.

"You guys don't want your superior officer hanging around on your down time. That's no way for you all to relax."

Petra couldn't help it. That stung. "We want to have you around. Captain."

"Yeah, pretty sure Oruo'd burst something if he had to keep his war face on the whole time I'm there." Levi sighed. "That gets annoying."

Petra suppressed a giggle. "I mean it, though. We all…look up to you." She'd been about to say love. Bad word choice.

"Do you?"

Was he asking rhetorically, or did he want her individual opinion? Petra wasn't sure, so she said nothing. They were silent a minute; the crunch of boots and voices below meant that the men had tracked them to this point. Petra shivered involuntarily, and the captain pressed her closer against his chest—he probably thought she was cold. His hand moved up her back. Under any other circumstances, Petra would have relished every second of this. But now, all she could see when she closed her eyes was the captain. The captain kicking and stomping Karl into the floor.

The captain with that electric, joyful light in his eyes.

She had seen such wildness before, when he slew titans. But with a human being…

Petra flinched, and found herself pressing against him, trying to get away. Levi loosened his hold on her at once. Though he kept his hands on her waist so she would not fall, he pushed himself off of her.

"Sorry. Thought you were cold," he muttered. Then he stared at the snow beneath them, until the torches and the men's voices moved on into the dark forest.

Petra studied his face in the moonlight. Too dark to get a decent read, but it was obvious that she had offended him. By god, when he'd come to get her from that hellish room she'd been ready to confess her feelings to him right there. Even if would be their first and last, she'd wanted to kiss him. But now…

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

Petra swallowed, summoned her courage. "Would you tell me why Karl wanted to hurt you, sir?"

"No."

The word was a sharp slap. Now he looked at her again, his gray eyes cold and his gaze distant.

"Why not?"

"I don't think my affairs involve you. That's why."

Petra had never been angry at her captain before. Humiliated earlier tonight, yes. Frustrated, yes. But now, her famous temper was starting to flare.

"He assaulted me because of your affairs. _Sir._ " Instantly, she felt herself quailing under his look, but forced herself to go on. "I think I deserve an explanation."

He had nothing to say to that. She drew a bit nearer—it _was_ cold out here—and frowned.

"Sir. Your heart's beating very fast. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I just ran half a mile in dress shoes with ODM gear strapped to me. It's been a night." His voice was as flat, as affectless as ever. "I'm not some superhuman, you know. I can get tired as much as the next asshole."

"Why won't you answer my question?"

"Told you. I'm all right."

Now she wanted to throttle him. "You know what I meant."

"Sir."

"Sir."

If she hadn't been paying attention, Petra would have missed the nearly imperceptible tightening of his jaw, the purse of his lips.

"Karl thought I might inherit this estate instead of him when his father died."

Petra blinked. That was not at all what she'd expected. "Why on earth would he think that?"

"Karl Morgenstern was a crazy shithead."

"Yes. He was. But I don't think he was stupid. He'd need a reason to think something like that could be true."

"Mmm. We've all got our reasons for things."

"So. What were his reasons?"

"Petra. Stop. All right?" He spoke through his teeth now. His arms, the steadiest that had ever held her, began to tremble. But not, she'd bet, with tiredness. "You asked why he wanted to get at me, and I told you. Let me keep the specifics to myself."

He was right. He _had_ answered her basic question. While it wasn't satisfying, if the particulars didn't concern her, they were his to keep.

"All right. Thank you, sir."

At that, Levi relaxed a bit. The wind whispered past, bringing a slight patter of snow against the back of Petra's neck. She shivered violently now.

"Shouldn't be too much longer." Levi huffed, his breath a cloud. "Those guys know I hate to be kept waiting." Again, he tried to pull her nearer to him just for warmth. Again, she went rigid without thinking. Levi grunted, and looked to the ground below. "They're gone now. Maybe it's possible to get you back down, so you don't have to touch me." He did not say it with any venom. Only sadness. "I know I scared you."

"Captain." She couldn't deny it, but she had to explain. "You…you saved me."

"No." He stared into her eyes again. His nostrils flared. "You saved yourself, Ral. I walked in and made everything worse. Because." He worked a muscle in his cheek, apparently debating with himself whether to continue. "Because I wanted to kill him for hurting you."

"But you didn't."

"But I wanted to. If you hadn't pulled me off, I would've. I wanted to crush his throat," the captain whispered, his voice low and guttural. Petra shivered, and not from the cold.

"I don't blame you for wanting to. I wanted to kill him, too. But…it was the way…" Petra stopped, feeling the tears freeze in her eyes. "You looked like…when we're out in titan territory, sometimes. When you get this…this look in your eyes. Like you're happy." Her chin quivered. "Like you like it."

"I like taking down dangerous beasts that threaten my subordinates," he muttered.

"But Karl wasn't a beast. He may have acted like one, but… He was human." She stared him in the eyes. Her vision of him blurred for a second as the tears welled and fell. "It. It scared me because I was wondering if you just like hurting things."

This was a hell of a time to have such a conversation with her superior: literally balancing on a fifty foot branch with a sheer drop to death waiting on either side. Levi nodded his head, and looked over her shoulder again. Probably checking the damn window.

"I did like hurting him, Petra." He appeared weary as he spoke, his shoulders rounding to a slight degree. It was like some horrible, shadowy weight had descended from the trees to perch on his back. "But not for the reasons you think. I don't like causing pain. In fact, I fucking hate it. But I will do what needs to be done to fulfill whatever my duty is. If it's getting Erwin results, anything I do to make it happen is good. If it's saving someone's life from a titan, it's a good kill. If it's protecting my subordinate from some rapist asshole, I'm having a good time. Okay?" He looked her in the eyes again. This time, when he pulled her a bit closer, she let him.

"Even though I'd already saved myself?" she whispered.

"Yes. Because scum like that can't be allowed to do whatever he wants to people and get off with a broken nose. He had to know fear, like you probably did. That's the only way it's fucking fair." He was breathing heavily now, and his words were strained and slow.

"So you hurt him to make it fair? To make him feel what I felt?"

"I hurt him because no one in this shitty world goes after my subordinates. You are all…special to me."

Petra nodded and tipped her chin to her chest. Her bangs fell into her eyes. Yes, she was a dear subordinate to him. He would do the same for anyone else.

"But." Levi stopped then.

"But what, sir?"

Even in the darkness, she could see the stunned, almost horrified look on his face as he spoke the words.

"But of all my subordinates. You. Are my favorite." He nearly choked on the word.

It hadn't meant much to hear Oruo say it. They all knew it, after all. But it was one thing to be seen as a favored pet, and another to be… He sounded so…

"Why am I your favorite?" All of a sudden, her skin was buzzing, the blood in her veins a hum.

"Because if anything happened to you, it would hurt me worst of all."

"Why, sir?"

"Because." He looked to the branches and the sky overhead, as if asking someone for help. Finding nothing, he continued. "Because I don't understand you," he growled. His hands moved possessively up her back, and she would not dream of stopping him. "Everyone else in this shitty world, everyone else in the Survey Corps, I can understand them all. Hange's here because she's fucking crazy. Erwin's here because he has a dream. Mike's here because…I don't know, he's a fucking giant and his nose is way too sensitive. Eld wants to be a hero, Gunther wants to follow, but I can't ever understand why you're here. How after years of seeing friends torn up and shit out, stomped on, how you keep smiling. You tell your stories. You look at me like." He winced; it was as if the word had gotten caught in his throat. "Like I'm some great guy. No matter how much I fucking swear at you, or shout at you to make your bed perfectly, or drill you in training… No matter I never smile at you, or praise you, you keep smiling at me. Like you see all that, and you like me anyway. It's. It's like when I first came out of the underground." There. The first time he'd admitted that much to her. "First time I saw the sun. It hurt me, but it was instantly the only thing I wanted. It was too bright, too warm. I thought it was a lie. I thought it was a trick. That fuckhead Karl, it's like he wanted to rip the sun outta the fucking sky. If anything broke that part of you." His face twisted in a violent expression of hate. "I don't want to live without that. So that's why I liked mashing that fucker's face into the carpet, Petra." His face was mere inches from hers now; she was captive in his arms. "That's why I wanted to kill him. Because it's like he was trying to take the sun away from me."

She had never heard him say so much in one go. The captain appeared almost weary with it now.

They were pressed so close together. Petra swallowed.

"Your heart is still beating fast," she whispered.

Levi had nothing to say to that.

It was too much to be believed. She was ready to dissolve into tears, because this had to be a dream and she knew waking up would break her spirit. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be possible that everything she'd ever wanted or prayed for was real.

That was a fantasy.

 _I have to know._

So Petra placed her hand upon the captain's cheek.

He jerked backwards, almost like a horse shying from her. But Petra knew horses, and she was patient. Slowly, she settled her hand back on his cheek. Levi continued to stare icily at her—his expression did not change a whit. But then, his eyes dropped closed, and he exhaled deeply. Petra stroked her thumb across his chin, and trailed her fingers along his cheek. She smoothed her finger along his bottom lip, receiving a thrill as he gasped softly at her touch. She skated the back of her fingers up the other side of his face, lost in caressing him. It was all right now if they hanged her. She'd gotten this, if only for a moment.

She was touching him.

The captain grabbed her wrist, holding her hand in place. He turned his head slightly to allow his lips to brush her skin as he spoke.

"This isn't a good idea, Petra."

"No. It's not," she murmured. "Please, sir."

With a moan, his eyes still closed, he kissed the back of her hand. Petra gasped as he let her go, and she cupped his other cheek. He nuzzled against her palm, pressed his lips to it. Petra shivered as his lips trailed to her wrist; he kissed her there as well. He was so beautiful, the ink of his hair, the paleness of his skin in the starlit dark. Petra began to reach around his neck, and Levi kissed along her arm as she did so. Then, as she wrapped herself around his neck, their noses brushed, their lips hovered an inch apart. They shared a single breath.

"I'm going to hurt you. I know it," he grunted.

"You said you would never hurt me." She smiled. "I believe you."

Levi gasped, and closed the distance between them.

He kissed her gently at first, only a quick brush of lips. That touch alone had her reeling; it was only thanks to him holding her that she didn't fall right out of the damn tree. Their embrace really was a delicate balancing act, the pair of them hooked into this position only by virtue of the ODM. But it was perfect, she thought, as he kissed her again and again. Everything about this was dangerous, as it should be.

His kisses were light, closed-lipped, almost chaste. He was being delicate with her. Levi did not want to pressure her. He was, as she'd always known in her heart, one of the kindest men.

She did not want kind. Not right now.

The next time he kissed her, Petra grazed her teeth on his bottom lip. He grunted in his throat as she bit down, then let her tongue stroke lightly against his closed mouth. He startled, as if she'd shot him with lightning.

"Petra," he growled. "I…I can't lose control up here."

"Yes, sir," she purred, and kissed him. This time, his mouth opened. His tongue stroked against hers. She groaned, and he answered in kind. His arms wrapped tight around her, his hand traveled up to fist her hair. She kissed him until she barely remembered to breathe, and after she'd paused for air she kissed his cheek down to the point of his chin. Levi's breathing hitched as he tilted his head back.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered as she began to kiss down his neck. Usually the man would take the initiative to explore the woman's body, but she had been far too horny for far too long to stand on ceremony. Petra kissed the glorious line of his throat, her hands trailing up and down his back as she did so. Fuck, even though it was impossible right now—all these circumstances were impossible—she wanted to see him naked. If she was able to get through this, and if they both were exonerated, she wanted to lock herself in a room at the inn with him and not come out for days, not even to eat. She wanted to explore every inch of his body, and let him explore hers. "Petra. Are you all right? I mean, after what happened," he muttered.

"This is just what I need to forget," she whispered, her lips tracing the hollow of his throat before she moved back up to taste his mouth. They kissed again and again, until her lips were swelling from it. She loved every second. Her hands trailed through his silken hair, across his shoulders, down his back.

 _I'd give anything to find out how firm his ass actually is,_ Nifa had said.

Why not? She'd already lost her mind.

Petra's right hand glided down, and she grabbed him. Oh god. It was more perfect than even _she'd_ imagined.

"What the _fuck_ ," the captain hissed, startling and shaking some snow off the branches. They both waited there, frozen in silence. Nothing. No one was around. Thank the walls and the goddesses above. Petra flushed as she looked back into his eyes. "You. Fucking. Wild animal." He bit her lip. Petra moaned as his tongue thrust deeper into her mouth, as one hand cupped the back of her neck, and as he pressed his ever-hardening body against her own. Petra was breathless, alive, and happy to be so. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she broke the kiss and tilted her head. His lips were hot on her neck, and she shivered in his embrace.

Against her lower body, he was throbbing and impatient.

"What do you want, captain?" she whispered in his ear.

"I want. You," he groaned in return, nibbling at her ear before delivering a line of searing kisses down her jaw, back to her lips. They kissed, and kissed.

"What do you want to do to me?" she breathed against his mouth.

"Petra." He said her name several more times against her lips. Breaking free, kissing at her pulse, he whispered, "I want to fuck you."

Those words alone could have made her come. Petra gave a short, soft cry. She couldn't stop giggling now, the tears coming readily.

"Shut up. Shut up," he whispered. "You little idiot, the MPs are around."

It was the least effective name he'd ever called her, considering his tongue was down her throat again a second later. Petra devoured his lips. He was hers. Hers. She couldn't believe it. Oh _fuck_ , why did this have to happen when they were on the run from the authorities? And in a tree?

The thought of that made her giggle again. Perhaps he'd punish her for her disobedience. Petra wondered how far they could manage to go if she lifted her skirt…

And then…

Her foot slipped, and she fell.

His. His, his. She was _his_.

Levi finally understood what Erwin meant when he used the word 'ecstasy.' She was light in his arms, her kisses were hot on his lips. He wanted to be inside of her, wrap her around himself. He wanted to live with her whispered moans in his ear, every single day. Why had he wasted so much fucking time when this kind of feeling could have been his?

Every kiss, every lick, every embrace made up for that.

Dimly, he remembered something about a window, but right now he couldn't be sure that was right. He felt no cold, or fear. He was lost in her.

And then, for half a heartbeat, she was falling out of his arms.

"Shit!" Levi cried as he grabbed Petra when she began to tumble into space, and hoisted her back onto the branch. She clung to him, hand clamped over her mouth to contain the shrieks of horror. "You okay?"

"Yes, sir." The prim little way she used his honorific after grabbing his ass and jamming her tongue down his throat almost made him laugh. Levi had a weird laugh, and liked for only a few people to hear it. Definitely not an erotic sound. Petra sighed as he held her close against him. "I suppose we should calm down a little." She sounded reluctant.

"Feel like I went for a ten mile run." He didn't know what the hell he was saying as he petted her hair. "Only the high, though. None of the pain."

"Hmm." She trailed kisses up and down his cheek. "We need to get our names cleared. After that, I can't wait to follow your orders to the letter."

He frowned. "My orders?"

"You know." She nuzzled him. The moonlight made her amber eyes shimmer. "I want to fuck you," she repeated, her voice hot against his ear. She kept kissing, but those were the words Levi needed to hear, the magic spell required to wake his ass up.

What…what the fuck was he _doing_ to her?

Whatever druglike haze he'd been wrapped up in, it vanished. Tonight Levi had, in no short order, done the following:

Put Petra in danger because he wouldn't guard her or tell her the truth.

Made it so that a psychopath tried to rape her in order to get to Levi.

After she'd managed to claw herself away from the monster, she'd had to watch Levi nearly murder the asshole in cold blood.

Got her arrested for murder.

Broke her out of custody, which could wind up with her being shot on sight.

And after all this, he had the audacity to project his weakness onto her. To force her to carry the burden of his sins. To get _her_ to make _him_ feel better. To grow so fucking needy that he started humping his most faithful subordinate like a horny adolescent itching for his first fuck. Telling Petra, the sweetheart of his squad, the angel who deserved nothing more than to be treated with class, that _he wanted to fuck her._

She was so primed up on adrenaline and her own feelings—which he'd taken advantage of—that she was willing to let him rut with her in the woods her like some kind of animal.

So even in the event that they didn't swing for murder or get sent to jail for resisting arrest, he'd now ruined her career and their working relationship.

And he'd taken something so pure and beautiful that he'd felt for her, and she for him, and warped it into simple lust. Like Mike and Nanaba, "just sex."

This whole fucking setting was perfect. The two of them high off the ground, in a risky position. Ah, but _he_ was the one wearing ODM gear; he was fine. In control. Petra was the one in real danger, relying on only his arms to protect her, to keep her from oblivion.

Of all the greedy, nasty monsters involved in this whole sordid night, Levi himself had to be the worst of all.

"Petra. Stop," he croaked. She pulled away from him, puzzled. "I'm sorry. This… This isn't right."

"What?"

"If we keep going like this. Fuck. It'll ruin your career. They'll talk about. Shit. Fuck." Words had always come slowly to Levi, but right now they seemed to be actively running away from him. He could only latch on to the worst ones. "They could hang us."

"And if they don't?"

"I'm taking advantage of you."

"You are not. Sir. I want this." She frowned; that temper of hers was kindling again. That sweetness and that fury were a potent combination. What he loved about her. "Are you going to tell me what I want?"

"No. But as your commanding officer, I'm telling you that what you want is bad for you. And I'm sorry for putting you in this position." Silence. She stared at the ground, far away. "You're pissed."

"I'm _confused_."

"You sound pissed."

"What would you like me to say, sir?" Petra raised her face again. She was rigid as a plank in his arms now, where a few moments ago she'd been sweet and pliable. "Should I cry? Or beg you not to do this? Or tell you to put me down? Or smile? Don't you like it when I smile?" Her voice was tight with tears now, but he heard her swallow them down.

Levi sighed. This was too much fucking drama in a night full of it, and they hadn't even fixed their damn problem yet.

"Can we hold off on the fucking and the not fucking until this night is over?" he said at last. "Focus on getting ourselves out of trouble."

Petra was silent. Then, in a small voice, "Yes. Sir."

A beat. Levi looked to the sky.

"Shit. I made this awkward."

"Yes. Sir."

But at least he'd stopped it. Stopped her from giving up her innocence in a rush of excitement. Even Levi had to marvel at how he could go from hot to cold at such a fast, almost insane speed. Only the abnormal could behave that way. After all he'd seen in his life, he could never be normal. That's what Petra needed. Someone who wasn't out of his damn mind.

Maybe this fuckup was what it would take to kick him out of her heart once and for all. If seeing him nearly stomp a man to death hadn't killed her love, this shit would do the trick.

She was still the sun, and he'd see to it she still shone. But you could not touch the sun, or you died. Some story Hange once told him, about a guy who used wings to fly up there. Wings melted, guy fell and died. "How do you make wings? Who has time for that?" had been his response to the story.

Now he sort of knew what she'd meant.

Across the dark lawn, through the forest, a light came on in the mansion's window. The signal he'd been waiting for.

"Ready?" Levi asked. "Ready to go see this fucker?"

"Yes. Sir."

Even as she traveled in his arms through the night, Petra had never been more distant.


	11. Chapter 11

As the captain deposited her outside of the window and kept watch to make certain they hadn't been spotted, Petra tried to figure out what to say to him, if anything. Wait. That could wait until this was over, as he'd said. But as Petra rapped on the window, and as Eld's relieved face appeared and he slid open the glass, she found that she couldn't help sneaking glances at the captain. He allowed her in first, then followed behind as swift as a shadow. He seemed to turn from her whenever he could. Whether to shake snow from his shoes or to brush it from his hair, he kept his back always to her. Petra suppressed a swell of anger, and looked around the room. Eld was there, and Gunther. Oruo's entire face lifted at the sight of her, and then he began to sneer and bark and kick at a figure huddled on the carpet.

"Idiot! Get up and beg for your life. Idiot!" Oruo kicked Gregor—the huddled figure, naturally—in the side. Gregor yelped, and Gunther shushed him harshly. Petra rubbed her freezing hands together and stood over Gregor. She had a petty, childish thought of placing her hands on the back of his neck. The cold would make him squeal.

But, of course, there were men everywhere looking for them. Better to stay quiet.

"Oruo. Don't make a mess if you don't have to," the captain said quietly. He sounded stoic now, as gruff and in command as ever. Only minutes earlier, he'd been undone, his voice hoarse with yearning. It was incredible how fast he could rebuild that wall.

Maybe there was something wrong with him after all. And something wrong with Petra for wanting him.

 _This is not the thing to think about right now._

Petra knelt before Gregor. He wouldn't look at her; too much of a coward.

"What about the MPs?" Eld murmured.

"They'll be chasing us in the forest for some time. We need to work fast, though. Has he told anything yet?" The captain walked to stand behind Gregor, who whimpered at the approach. "You know who I am, pig?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Then I suggest you look at Ral. If you don't, you'll have to look at me instead, and I'm not nearly as pretty."

Petra flinched. The captain's patter sounded the same as ever, but now that they'd shared that moment in the woods she could not even hear him speak about her without reacting. _Calm. You're a soldier, Petra. Act like one._

Gregor looked into her eyes. His tears didn't move her. Instead, she grabbed his ear and dug in her nails. Gregor yelped, and the captain kicked him in the ass for it. Petra was grateful.

"What did you see after they took the captain away?" she muttered.

"You don't understand. I didn't want to do it, Petra. I swear. Hurting you made me sick." She twisted his ear harder. Gregor bit on his lip, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"That doesn't answer my question," she snapped.

"The MPs, some of us, we loan our skills out. You know? For a little extra money?" He glanced at Oruo for sympathy; the man bared his teeth. No sympathy here. A roomful of angry eyes watched Gregor squirm. "I have gambling debts. I've never been lucky, Petra, you know that. Just a little extra money for some…added security at a party. Providing a little muscle here and there. Lord Karl paid for my services tonight, to be his own personal guard. I thought it'd just be things like watching his back, dealing with any assholes. Instead it turned into…what it turned into."

"And you never once thought to stop it?" Her vision shook with rage.

"If I had, he'd have exposed me to Commander Dok. You know we're not supposed to take any private money. I would've been out of the MPs, sent to prison!"

"Sorry if I don't feel too bad for you."

"Want me to kill him for you, Petra?" Oruo growled. He thrust his face into Gregor's. "Tear his ears off and stuff 'em down his throat?"

"I just want to know what you saw after the captain was taken away. And if you don't…" Petra tried to think of a suitable threat. "If you don't, we'll all leave you alone with him." Gregor gave a stifled yelp. Her eyes darted to Levi's, and he quickly looked away. But he nodded. Good idea, that's what he indicated. She had never wanted him so much; she wanted him as much as she suddenly hated him.

No. Not hated. But all of her visions of him had fractured tonight, and she didn't know what to feel anymore.

"If you don't tell us what you know," the captain said, "I will make it my business that you never speak again." A chilling threat. Everyone believed it, too.

"All right." Gregor sniffed. "After the captain was taken away, Oruo helped you out of the room. It was only me, Lord Karl, and Herman. I was trying to sneak out—the guys were talking about sending a doctor back fast, for Lord Karl. I didn't want to get caught; I figured if I ran, no one would know. Then…"

The captain suddenly moved away, headed for the window. Gregor looked up, baffled.

"D-Don't you want to hear? C-Captain Levi?"

"No need. I already know who it was. Pretty damn sure I know everything." He paused at the window. "I just wanted to make certain he'd tell you. Know we were serious."

"What?" Petra tried not to shriek. She got to her feet, the whole room looking after her in confusion as she followed her captain to the window. He shoved open the glass, and buttoned his jacket. "Where are you going? Sir?" She barely thought to add his honorific.

"Once he finishes telling you, Eld and the others know what to do. I've got a mission elsewhere from Erwin. Don't worry." He nodded at her once. "I'll see you at the end of it all."

"I don't understand any of this." Tears were upon her now, not of sorrow but of sheer frustration. This entire evening, Petra had been led this way and that by different men, lied to, attacked, embraced, rejected. Enough of it. Enough of it all. "Why can't you just be honest with us, for once?"

"Petra!" Eld was shocked. Normally, she was the most obedient of Levi's squad. But not tonight. Not now.

"Everything that's happened might've been so different if you'd just talked to me! To us," she amended quickly, but the captain drew in a sharp breath. Other than that, though, his hooded eyes, his cool gaze, his emotionless expression remained in check. He was a man without feelings.

She couldn't bear this any longer.

"Follow orders, Petra. Do what you were trained to do."

With that, he slipped out the window and was gone into the darkness. As Petra shut the glass, as she returned to Gregor, and as he told them every detail of what he had seen, she was numb. As the last steps of Commander Smith's plan began to unfold, Petra went about the motions competently, and quietly. Like a soldier.

Like any other soldier in the corps.

Wherever the captain was, and whatever he was doing, it was none of her business.

After he left the room, Levi crept across the face of the house like a midnight shadow. His old days of thievery had never fully left his muscle memory; he knew how to slink down a drain, how to climb a roof without disturbing a shingle, how to enter and exit with the soundlessness of a cat. He knew where he was headed, and he knew why.

The last part of Erwin's plan. Hopefully, all the proper pieces came together.

The only thing that put his foot out of step for a single instant, the only reason he nearly fell, was when he remembered the hurt in Petra's eyes. The girl he'd dragged through hell, who'd kissed him with more passion than he could've ever anticipated, he'd left her without so much as a tender glance, or a secret touch. Something to let her know it was going to be all right.

 _I shouldn't be in a relationship. That's clear now. I'm too fucked up even for a one night stand, and she deserves much more than that._

Levi's greatest hope and fear with regards to his subordinate had both been realized in the span of one hour. She would do anything for him, and if he didn't break her infatuation, he'd be selfish enough to take her. He could imagine fucking her in his narrow bed back in the barracks, the springs squealing beneath them, her breath coming hot and fast in his ear. The dirty slap of their fucking, the obscene moans, the undignified climax. Then what? Her innocence gone, her hopeful dreams diminished. He'd spare her all of that.

But that look in her eyes…

As Levi arrived at the proper window and slunk into the darkened room, he promised himself to stay away from that girl from now on.

But first, Erwin's plan. Levi kept the window half opened, so that a light, snowy breeze wafted into the room. Moonlight created stark, rectangular patterns on the carpet. A clock ticked on the wall. Levi padded over to the bed, listened to the smacks and the grumblings of the figure in it.

"Hello, Father," he said dully.

Siegfried rushed up the stairs, his chest rising and falling with his fevered breathing. He touched the sweat at his brow, checked the hallway to either side. No one. No one there.

Where was he?

He'd escaped. Levi'd _escaped_.

"He's going to kill me," the old man whispered as he turned the doorknob and fled into the darkened bedroom. Siegfried paused, listened to his brother's coughs and snores, the clock's eternal ticking. With trembling hands, Siegfried struck a match and lit a candle on the bedside table. He raised the light, watching it warp and undulate across the ceiling and the walls. Siegfried hurried to the wardrobe, opened it and looked inside. Nothing there.

Why, why had he said that to the captain?

That filthy, low-blooded captain. The swine, the dirt, the waste of good ejaculate. Such a hero, yes, Humanity's Strongest, yes. Let him stay in his barracks with his common soldiers, and outside the walls with his titans. Let him pollute the world with his own ill-bred stock. To think Siegfried had had to endure flattering that whorespawn, try filling his head with dreams of lordly grandeur. Most ill-mannered commoners would salivate at the chance to be heir to the Morgenstern estate, but the captain had not been like most in that regard.

Why, why had Siegfried called the man a whore's get to his face?

The MPs had all run off into the woods to chase him and that little red-haired slattern down. When would they be back? In a huff, Siegfried ran to the other side of the room to check the closet. Inside, there was nothing. No one. He heaved a sigh of relief, and then…

The window. It was partway open, and Siegfried had left it closed last time he was here.

Now Siegfried's blood seemed to turn to ice. He shambled to the window as if drugged, and in a stupor closed it. He looked to his brother's bed…

The curtains had been drawn around it. He had not drawn them.

Siegfried should have run screaming from the room, but he operated as if possessed by a nightmare. Slowly, he crossed the carpet and stood before the bed. Placing the candle on the bedside table, the old man gripped the curtains. He listened, shivering, and wondered if he could hear two separate men breathing on the other side. With a cry, he flung open the curtains.

Siegfried looked on the face of his brother, and no one else. He gasped in relief, his knees shaking so badly he nearly fell to the floor. Behind him, he heard the doorknob turn. The door creaked open, and Siegfried reeled around to face the intruder.

"You," he choked, placing a hand to his throat.

"Me," Erwin Smith said, shutting the door behind him. One enormous eyebrow raised itself. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me here. Why are you sitting practically in the dark, Lord Siegfried?"

"You may light the lamps, if you wish." Siegfried nearly melted in relief. Surely the captain would not commit murder within sight of his superior. Erwin went about the room, using the candle to light the lamps. Soon, the place was fully lit, and Viktor grumbled and twitched in the bed. This much light irritated him. Siegfried shut the curtains again. "We ought to let my brother sleep, Commander."

"No." Erwin Smith's baritone voice was rich, but hard. The huge, blond man squared his already impeccably square jaw. "You will speak to me now, Siegfried."

"My lord," the old man snapped.

"Siegfried. Why not explain this to me." And Erwin held up a book. Siegfried recognized it at once.

"My brother's diary."

"For the first half of 815. It includes some sketches of a rather salacious nature. I recognized the image of the woman you showed my captain. His mother, Kuchel." It seemed that the Commander's blue eyes softened a touch then, and only for an instant. "I cannot imagine that was an easy thing for him to see."

"Commander. You should be searching for your man this instant. He is a murderer!"

"He is," Smith conceded. "But he did not murder your nephew. Please spare me your little games." The Commander flipped through Viktor's book, a hard light in his eyes now. "When did you come up with your plan, Siegfried? When did you decide to involve my captain in your little manipulations and power plays?"

"I don't—"

"You do. You told my captain, and me, that his mother was a, shall we say, a guest in this house for the first three months of the year 815. In that time, she was your brother's personal playmate, thereby all but ensuring that Lord Viktor Morgenstern was my captain's biological father." Erwin looked up. "A fairly casual check of this diary contradicts your story, sir. Yes, Kuchel, that is, Olympia was brought here in March of 815. But she did not stay longer than two days, it seems, and your brother was _not_ her sole customer. Not even remotely."

Siegfried said nothing. There was nothing to say. Erwin continued.

"You should understand that your brother was _very_ explicit in his accounts. He brought a number of girls from an underground brothel here. He had his friends over, and invited his own servants to join the fun, male and female. There are pictures of Olympia in this book, along with pictures of a great many other girls, all marked as the same weekend. It appears that Olympia was paid to show her attentions to a wide variety of men that weekend, noble and common alike. Your brother. Your brother's staff." Erwin raised an eyebrow once more. "You?"

"No!" Siegfried all but spat. "I would never defile myself with common filth like that."

"For Olympia's sake, I am glad she did not have to entertain you. But you were there, then, on this weekend. Yes?"

Silence. There was no point any longer.

"Yes."

"While there is a chance that Lord Morgenstern fathered my captain, it is by no means a certainty. Yes?"

"Yes."

"And yet you lied. You stretched the truth, at least. You tried to make my captain and me believe that his parentage was a certainty. Why, I wonder, would you do such a thing?" The Commander stepped nearer, his footfall heavy on the carpet. "I have a theory, my lord. You are regent now, enjoying your brother's place as head of the family while he lies in a constant delirium. But his death is imminent, and once his disgusting son takes over, you will be shoved out. No more power. No more access to the family funds. No more position. You couldn't bear that. So you wracked your brains, and then you found Kuchel's picture in your brother's diary. You must have seen my captain about, heard tales of his renown. He looks so like his mother; I myself was stunned by the resemblance. A thought occurred: try to pass him off as your long lost, illegitimate nephew. He might be, after all. It's not impossible. The king would surely legitimize him, and then Karl is displaced. Levi would undoubtedly let you have your run of the place, and the Morgenstern family would gain the social cache of boasting Humanity's Strongest as a member. But as you were planning all this, another thought occurred. A darker plan. What if you "accidentally" allowed Karl to learn that he had an elder brother? Surely trash such as your nephew would provoke my captain, try to find his weakness, perhaps even try to kill him. It would never work, of course. You knew no puffed up lord's son could ever do away with my captain. But if Levi is provoked and ends up murdering Karl, then one heir is dead and the other in prison. The estate then passes in its entirety to you. Am I on the right track?"

"You can't prove anything," Siegfried rasped. He backed towards the window, Erwin in pursuit. The old man placed a hand on the wall for support, as the Commander loomed above him.

"You have played a very nice game against my soldiers tonight, my lord." The Commander smiled, then. His smile was the most frightening thing Siegfried had ever seen. "But now, I will make my move."

Erwin watched calmly as Commander Zackly entered, followed by Pixis, Nile, and a handful of Military Police. Perfectly timed. He'd hoped they would all be able to wrap this up within the hour. The storklike servant in black livery ushered all of the guests into the room. Finished, the man went to stand quietly by Siegfried's side, shadowlike as always.

Siegfried himself appeared pale and wan.

"Erwin. What exactly is all of this?" Zackly adjusted his glasses, and snorted in annoyance. "This entire evening's gone belly up in a matter of hours. There's still no sign of Levi, or your girl."

"Commander, I intend for everything to be laid to rest immediately. Thank you all for your patience."

"What are you up to now, Erwin?" Pixis asked, a twinkle in his eyes. He took a surreptitious swig of his flask. Nile, meanwhile, glowered.

"It doesn't matter what tricks you've got, Erwin. Your soldiers resisted arrest and incapacitated my men. There's no way out for them."

"You might very well be right." Erwin looked to the door as several more people entered the room. "That's why one of them is here."

Oruo, Gunther, Eld, Gregor, and Petra all revealed themselves. Petra's bruised appearance created something of a stir. Even Erwin had to suppress a wince; privately, he was glad Karl Morgenstern was dead, and only regretted that his death had not been more lingering. Zackly adjusted his glasses again for a proper look at the girl.

"Got that resisting Commander Dok's men, girl?" he asked.

"No, sir. From Lord Karl." Petra was fearless, Erwin would give her that. She looked the Commander of all military branches right in his eyes with a determined expression. No wonder Levi had wanted her for his squad, young as she was.

"Yes. Why your captain ended up murdering the fellow, wasn't it?"

"No, sir. He didn't kill anyone."

"And how can you prove that?" Nile snapped. Erwin glared at his old friend. Nile. To think he'd stare a bruised, battered girl in the face and think only of settling his own agendas. The Military Police had gotten its hooks into him. _Was Marie worth it?_ Erwin wanted to ask. He did not.

"Gregor can." Petra shoved the man forward. The fellow's eyes darted about the room, checking every corner. Erwin imagined he knew whom the man searched for. The same phantom presence that had Siegfried pale and nervous.

"Gregor? What is this?" Nile appeared stunned.

"Forgive me, Commanders. I need to speak the truth, before anybody else gets hurt." The man closed his eyes, and took a shuddering breath. "I was paid by Lord Karl Morgenstern to act as his personal muscle this evening. He had me and my fellow MP, Herman Strauss, stand watch outside of a bedroom door, wherein he accosted Miss Ral."

"Gregor." Nile now appeared sick.

"Go on," Zackly said, hands behind his back.

"When Miss Ral tried to escape, Herman and I dragged her back into the room and held her down. Lord Karl said that he wanted to assault her in order to make Captain Levi angry. He wanted the captain to attack him in return, so that Captain Levi would be taken to jail."

"But why?" Pixis frowned. "Why would he want to do that?"

"A rumor. He heard a rumor that the captain…might…inherit this estate. He panicked, and tried to prevent that. But the captain beat him too well. He nearly kicked him to death." Gregor winced. "I watched as the other MPs took the captain out of the room. Miss Ral and Mr. Bozad left after them. I was alone, and I tried to sneak away—I didn't want to be caught. But then." Gregor's eyes snapped open. "Someone came in. I hid behind the bed, out of sight. He didn't see me when he took the letter opener off the desk." Gregor licked his lips. "And he didn't see me when he stabbed Lord Karl until he was dead."

"Who was it, then?" Nile rasped. Erwin glanced at Siegfried out of the corner of his eye.

Gregor took another, shaky breath.

"Him," he croaked, and pointed at Siegfried. All eyes turned to the old man.

And the old man turned eyes to the person at his side. The storklike, black-liveried servant.

The man's white face paled even further. He staggered backwards as Gregor nodded.

"That man in the black. He killed Lord Karl."

The servant scoffed, and regained his composure.

"That is absurd. My lord? It's absurd!" The man scoffed again, now turning fully to his employer. Siegfried regarded him with knitted brows. "You know I've been in the ballroom the entire night. You know I didn't—"

"I was there when Lord Karl told him to bring Miss Ral to the bedroom. He instructed him to lie to her, tell her the captain wanted her."

"He did," Oruo growled. "I was there."

"The second you were done, you ran out before the doctor could arrive, leaving the weapon behind," Gregor added.

"And why didn't you tell anyone, if you're such an honest, forthright type of person?" the man growled.

"I didn't want to lose my position by admitting what I'd done," Gregor muttered. "But…I think that's over and done with now."

"All right. I ran an errand for my lord Karl. I brought the girl to him, but I did not murder him!" The thin man began to back away, only there was nowhere to go. Nowhere but the wall. The reedy man began to wilt under everyone's collective stare. "Wh-when do you think I committed this murder, then?" he demanded.

"Eleven. I heard the clock strike the hour."

"My lord, you know that I was with you at eleven o'clock. Tell them!" The servant turned pleading eyes to Siegfried. The lord snorted in response.

"To think a degenerate like you would ask me to lie to save your filthy hide. After you murder my own nephew? Trash."

Now the servant's stunned expression shifted into a mask of such seething hatred, Erwin was half-ready to step in to protect Siegfried.

"You're not going to pawn this off on me. You _ordered_ me to do it!" the man snapped. "You told me that if all went to plan, the captain would "finish off" your nephew, and that if by some miracle he hadn't that I should finish the job and let the police figure out the rest! I only acted on your instructions, you bastard!"

"When did Lord Siegfried give this order?" Erwin asked.

Relieved, the servant replied, "Only an hour before it happened. In his study."

"So, ten?"

"Yes."

"Impossible." Erwin frowned. "I have been with Lord Siegfried since nine o'clock, in the library."

"Indeed." Siegfried nodded. "These lies are outrageous."

The servant stopped then, aghast. His eyes bugged out; he appeared almost pitiful.

"It's a conspiracy. That's what it is! Your Commander's a liar, don't you see? This is no kind of justice!"

"I think we've gotten some kind of justice tonight," Zackly drawled, polishing his glasses. He appeared only barely interested in the histrionics on display. "Sounds to me that you've confessed to the murder of Karl Morgenstern. That's all I need to know. Nile? Do the honors?" Zackly calmly perched his glasses back on his nose. Nile gestured to two of his men, who got on either side of the servant and marched him from the room. The man continued to shout over his shoulder, wailing with fury.

"You don't know what he promised me! You don't know!" Then he was gone.

Erwin realized, in a detached sort of way, that he'd never even gotten the fellow's name.

Nile glared at Gregor, who continued to hang his head in shame.

"Under these circumstances, Nile, I'm hoping you can find it in yourself to let my soldiers go," Erwin said.

"Let them go? The girl, yes. She was Morgenstern's victim, and I know she didn't knock out my men." Nile glared with real, cold fury in his eyes. "But Captain Levi has to pay for what he's done."

"Nile. Consider." Erwin used his honeyed voice, the one that certain women had told him both thrilled and frightened in equal measure. It was the voice he used for his most secretive deals. "The Military Police has suffered a colossal embarrassment tonight. If Captain Levi is detained, all the reasons for his imprisonment will come to the surface. Bribery. Corruption. Two MPs being party to assault. It will look very bad. Not to mention that now, when the captain's popularity is so enormous… Most people will silently side with him. See him as a hero for defending a young girl's honor. More will turn against your police. You want to lock away Humanity's Strongest, and suffer the public ridicule that will entail?"

Nile looked ready to commit murder. Pixis smiled, and tapped his chin.

"What are you suggesting?" Zackly asked.

"Let Captain Levi go, and the full account of Karl Morgenstern's death does not need to come to public attention. Gregor's stain on the MPs can remain a private, interoffice matter. Well, Nile?"

Zackly and Pixis gave Nile the sort of expression that older, wiser men adopt when their own minds have been made up, and they are waiting to see if the younger man will commit a blunder. Nile sighed.

"Fine. The captain goes free. Wherever he is, out somewhere in the forest with my men chasing him?"

"Call off the search. Levi is like any wild animal; he will find his way back in his own time," Erwin said.

"My apologies for all the incredible disturbance this evening, my lord," Zackly said. Siegfried tsked.

"Think nothing of it. Thank you all for ensuring that justice was done for my poor brother's son."

"I have to ask." Pixis grinned. "How did Lord Karl get the notion that Captain Levi was going to take over this estate?"

Erwin said nothing. Siegfried sighed.

"My nephew was not a well man, Commander. Some things must remain a mystery."

"No doubt. Well, Erwin. Looks like the last dance has been called." Pixis clapped Erwin on the shoulder as he headed for the door. "Suppose we shouldn't overstay our welcome. Quite a night, this. Though honestly, I preferred last year's gala. It had those little cheese puffs. Loved those." With that, Pixis left. Zackly followed. Nile, after a few terse words with Gregor, escorted him out the door and did not look at Erwin on the way out.

Erwin nodded to Levi's squad. "That's all. Thank you, everyone. You helped a great deal."

"Commander?" Petra looked at him with grave eyes. "Do you know where the captain is? He said he was on a mission for you?"

"He is." Erwin smiled. "Don't worry. He'll be fine."

"Yes, sir. Thank you," she muttered, and left with the fellows. They shut the door behind them, and Siegfried seemed to deflate. He wiped his brow.

"Thank you," the lord muttered.

"I do not enjoy lying under such circumstances." Erwin frowned. "That man was guilty of murdering Karl, and will be hanged accordingly. You, however, will escape the noose even though you ordered the killing."

"The world has never been a fair place."

"No. It has not. You will, I trust, keep your word?" Erwin stepped nearer. "Three thousand a year for my soldiers, without fail. Should any emergency expenses arise, you will do what you can to cover them, and wheedle with the king's council for the rest. When you are Lord Morgenstern, you will be a friend to the Survey Corps."

Siegfried gave a leering smile. "And if I am not such a friend?" He tsked. "Remember, Commander, that you've perjured yourself. You've helped a killer escape justice. If I choose not to pay, you can do nothing. I can take you down with a word."

"Indeed. Though you'd damn yourself with the same breath."

"The world is not fair, Commander, and the rich and powerful are different from people like you."

"I know people like you. I was once like you," Erwin replied softly. His eyes flicked to a movement of the drapes by the window, stirred as if by a breath of wind. "And I have insurance against any threat you may pose."

Levi stepped out of the shadow, then, as surely as if he had melded from nothingness into form. He had been here the entire time, waiting and watching in this room. Siegfried froze as the captain stepped up behind him, clapped him on the shoulder, and whispered in his ear.

"If you threaten Erwin again, or short us by a single coin, I'll pay you one more visit." Levi bared his teeth, and the underground thug Erwin had seen so long ago reemerged. "I hate meaningless death, but if it protects my people I can make an exception. Understand?"

"I do," Siegfried whispered. Yes, he now realized how close he had been to death all this time. He now realized that, if Levi wanted it, no door or window could keep him outside. If Levi wanted it, Siegfried would die.

"Thanks for a fun party, Uncle." Levi shoved the old man towards the bed, and stepped up beside Erwin. "Can we get the hell out of here?"

"Of course." Erwin bowed to Siegfried before taking his leave. "My lord."

Siegfried was too stunned to reply. Such deplorable manners.

"Erwin, I'll never understand you," Levi muttered, doing his best to keep pace with the giant man's stride. "You put that whole damn thing together, and you don't even break a sweat. Even the crime bosses in the underground would've shit their pants to see you coming. You would've made a name for yourself."

"Oh? What would it have been?" Erwin smiled.

"Boss Eyebrow, probably." Levi started a bit when Erwin laughed. He could never quite get used to the sound. "Thanks, for Petra's sake if nothing else. If it'd been left up to me, they would've hunted her down in the snow. I'm just glad there's no more damage." They descended the staircase into a cluster of people slipping into coats and arguing amongst themselves. After Karl's murder, the entire party had devolved over the past hour or so. No one seemed to know the full story, which Levi appreciated. He and Erwin made their way through the crowd, instinctively found a silent study, and shut themselves in. Some conversations shouldn't be overheard. "I'm just sorry that shitheel Lord Siegfried gets to walk away from all of this free and easy," Levi growled, leaning up against the wall.

"Three thousand a year is not free."

"He should be paying with his life, same as that servant of his." Levi glowered at the floor, hating the pattern of abstract flowers. "Men like him, like his brother… They play with other peoples' lives. My mother. That servant. Petra. Even Karl, in a way. They wreck people, and they move on. It's not right."

"If I had sent Siegfried to the gallows, the Morgenstern estate would have likely passed back to the crown. The king would have gifted these lands to some other fat nobleman, one who couldn't be bribed into sympathy for our cause. Karl is dead, and that servant will soon join him. At least all who are condemned to die tonight had real blood on their hands. This outcome is the lesser of two evils. Petra is safe, and so are you, Levi."

Levi knew that everything Erwin said was correct, but he was not a genius. He did not see eighteen steps ahead at every turn. He lived in the here, and the now. His dreams only stretched so far. The furthest he'd ever been able to see was some world where the titans did not exist, where men and women could love and fuck up and hate and strive and die and live without fear of some giant, hideous, nonsensical threat swooping down to rip them apart on a whim. Levi would give his soul for that outcome.

And only Erwin could see that dream through.

"I'll do whatever you say, Erwin." He glanced up at the man. "You took a chance, threatening Nile like that. I'm not sure I'm worth your damn fussing."

"You are, Levi." For the first time, Erwin appeared truly disturbed. Angry, even. The Commander paced away, looked out the window. Then, he spoke again. "The reason I truly despise Lord Siegfried is because of the way he perceived you. Trash from the gutter. A nothing from the underground."

"Yeah, he's a real fucking prince."

"I know you to be the best man of my acquaintance."

Levi didn't know what the hell to say to that. Erwin continued.

"You came from a world that would have broken most other men. I could not have survived your life, Levi, let alone thrived in it. No," he said when Levi started to protest. "I would have died in that hell. You fought and scraped out something for yourself under the direst circumstances, in the best way you knew how. When you came to the surface, you were brutal, and proud, and filled with hate. For a while, I thought of how best to tame you, and use your incredible abilities. You hated me when we first met; I know that. And, in truth, I deserved your hate. I saw your skills, Levi. I did not see the man who wielded them." Erwin turned then, a grave light in his eyes. "I judged you as Siegfried did, as a nothing, a criminal. But there is nobility inside of you that I cannot match. I have never seen your equal. I doubt I ever will. So. When that decrepit lord judged you as nothing… He should have been proud that there was even the slightest chance you might share his bloodline. Forgive me for ever once thinking in the same way as that inferior man."

Levi did not cry. The last time he'd wept had been six years ago, when Furlan and Isabel died. Since then, he had shut out a certain, tender part of himself. But now, at Erwin's words, there was a light burning in his eyes. Ah, fuck. Levi had been running from Petra for so long, that he had failed to recognize any other type of emotion. This, too, was love. He loved this man.

It was as powerful as what he felt for Petra, if directed with a different energy, and towards a different purpose. But it was love all the same.

"Erwin. You bastard," he grunted. Levi shoved off from the wall, and tucked his feelings back inside of him. "We'd better go. The brats'll be needing their bedtime."

"Yes." Erwin smiled. "Thank you, Levi."

"Oh, and Erwin?" Levi opened the door. "Don't ever, ever let Hange drink again. I think Moblit's scarred for life."

Levi found her standing in front of the carriage, speaking with Nifa. Petra had taken off the MP's jacket, and put on her delicate little shoes again. She rubbed her bare arms in the chill, and bounced on her feet to stay warm. He idly pictured taking her in his arms, wrapping her up in his embrace and stopping her shivers. Kissing her temple, her shoulder. Hearing the sweet little noises she'd make.

He shook his head, and came up to the women. Nifa nearly fell over to see him.

"Oh! Captain! Hello."

"I'd like to speak to my subordinate in private."

"Of course." Nifa dashed away, sneaking unsubtle glances over her shoulder as she went. Petra faced him, a neutral expression on her face.

"Yes, sir?"

"We need to talk."

"About what, sir?"

"Don't get cute, Petra. Later on, back at the inn—"

"Sir?" Her voice wavered lightly. Her lashes touched her cheeks as she lowered her eyes. "Would it be all right if we didn't have that talk? Please? I understand what you want to say. I know why you want to say it. We can pretend that tonight never happened. I want to continue serving you, and be a good soldier in your eyes. That's what I've always wanted most from you, sir." She looked up at him again.

What she'd always wanted most.

"Is that true?"

"Yes, sir. It is."

"Then good. We understand each other."

Petra inhaled deeply. "We do. Thank you, captain."

She would be fine. Her bruises would heal, and she would forget her infatuation. She was a girl, still, and there would be so many boys. Levi could hold onto those few, precious moments when she'd been in his arms. He'd live off of them, take the memories out on a cold night and warm them against his chest. And if he'd hoped she was going to say something different—hoped she'd say she would speak to him at the inn, they had so many things to discuss—he quashed those hopes and set them aside. For her.

He had to do this one thing for her.

Petra shivered. "May I get in the carriage, captain?"

"Of course." He held out his hand. "Here. It's a tricky step."

She looked at his hand, and at him.

"Thank you, sir. I'll be fine on my own."

A rush of blood; he wanted to bark at her to accept him. Then, the impulse faded. It was her choice, after all.

Levi stepped back as Petra got into the carriage, and Nifa joined her. Then Levi climbed onto his horse and rode through the night, trailing her carriage down the parkway and through the gates, out into the forest and into town.

He rode, and watched the swinging lantern of her carriage. He chased the little light from a safe distance, making certain never to catch up.


	12. Chapter 12

Petra woke with tears on her face, and lay in bed listening to Nifa breathe steadily beside her. Bleary, she looked at the window and saw the first faint light of day on the horizon. Not dawn yet—no reds or pinks. Only a charcoal gray, the first sign that night was ending. She couldn't have gotten more than two hours of sleep, and she needed her rest. Grumbling, Petra rolled onto her side. She smiled at Nifa, who looked a bit like a dead squirrel when she slept: mouth ajar, head tilted back, front teeth on prominent display. All the girls had teased Nifa about that back in training.

 _How many of those girls are dead now?_ The thought drained the smile.

Petra bundled deeper under the blankets, wincing as the previous night crashed over her once more. The helplessness of Karl lifting her skirt, the vicious thrill of breaking his damn nose; the horror of watching the captain at work, and the sheer ecstasy of their stolen kisses up in those trees. The plunge of her stomach as he pulled away once again. Tears pricked her eyes.

She wanted to wake Nifa up to have someone to talk to about this, but that wouldn't be right. Nifa had already sat up with her an extra hour when they got back. Washed, with their nightgowns on, the two had huddled in their shared bed and Nifa had listened with horror growing on her face.

"I had no idea," she kept whispering. It was such a story that even when Petra told her about the captain, Nifa's enthusiasm had been muted. A few high-pitched shrieks into her cupped hands, several sworn promises not to tell anyone, but then the enthusiasm died. "What happens now?" Nifa had asked.

"I try to move on, I suppose. Stay on his squad." Petra winced; the mere thought of seeing the captain for the ride home tomorrow made her want to hide under the covers. How would she face him over and over again at training, and during expeditions?

"Are you sure it's hopeless?" Nifa asked. Petra shrugged.

"He wanted to talk to me after we got back. I said no."

Nifa whacked her with a pillow. "Who knows what he would've said!"

"I do. He agreed when I told him that we should just pretend this never happened."

Nifa huffed, and ran a hand through her bangs. "I love you, Petra, but you know absolutely nothing about men."

Petra had glared. "I know a few things." Nifa was the girl who'd taught her a few simple, comprehensive contraceptive techniques, after all.

"Nothing frightens a man more than the thought of rejection by a woman. Nothing. The captain would rather face a horde of titans on his own than ever pour his heart out to you and hear you respond 'You're very nice, but.' The second he thought you didn't want him, he agreed to avoid embarrassment."

"But I _don't_ want him. It's too complicated, and." Petra swallowed. "And he's not the man I thought he was."

"Who did you think he was? A god? Some perfect shining knight riding across the plains? You know what he's like! You spend more time with him than almost anyone."

"I thought he was…steadier." Petra bit her lip. That wasn't the right word, was it? The captain, in many ways, was the steadiest, most reliable man she'd ever seen. But… "That is, he doesn't know how to feel anything. He's like a child in some ways. And I think he's too old to be like that." She'd had to stop, then, because she couldn't hold back the tears. Nifa had rubbed her back, petted her hair. "I can't take the risk. I don't want that responsibility."

"Okay, then." Nifa had kissed her cheek, and they'd finally lain down and gone to sleep. But Petra's dreams had been filled with titans' mouths opening to swallow her, men's hands coming out of the darkness to untie her dress, and the captain underneath her, naked, digging his nails into her body and begging her not to get up. When she'd woken, she'd been half terrified and half aroused.

"So. Just like the rest of the night," she muttered, and rubbed her eyes. She knew now that there'd be no sleep. Petra slid out of bed, trying not to disturb Nifa. She found her boots in the semi-darkness and slipped them on, then found her Survey Corps trenchcoat. Tying it at the waist, she stepped to the window and looked out on the yard below. Through the lanterns hanging around the inn's perimeter, she saw the snow was falling, and had been for some time. The yard below was a pristine blanket of white.

Well. Almost pristine. Petra saw a line of tracks leading from the inn's front door all the way to the stables, a long, low building on the right hand side of the inn's courtyard. Petra saw a light flickering through the window. Someone was keeping the horses company.

Very likely it was the stablehand gone for his early morning routine. But Petra knew exactly where she was going as she slipped across the room and out the door.

She walked down the hall, listening to the absolute stillness of the inn. Petra paused as a clock sounded, and chimed five times. Probably that would be the signal for the kitchens to get a move on. She imagined some kid having to wake up the staff below stairs, readying them for another day. Petra only had this magical darkness to herself for a little while longer. It was so strange to stand in an empty place where hundreds of people had moved about just a little while ago. It made her feel like a ghost. Was that what it was like to die? Standing around in the shadows of places you'd once moved, invisible to everyone around you, always near but eternally far? Petra didn't like that thought. She descended the staircase and walked to the inn's front door. Wincing at the sharp creak, she opened it and stepped out into the world.

The silence was so complete, it was a pressure on Petra's ears. She held out a hand, watched as a few soft flakes touched her skin and dissolved on contact. She followed the footprints—a man's, by the look of it, and not very large. Her heart palpitated sharply as she let the prints guide her like a trail of breadcrumbs in a children's story. She walked to the stable entrance, and opened the door.

The captain was there, seated on a stool beneath his horse's stall. The captain's black mare was wearing her blanket against the cold, and leaned her head over the stall's door to bluster and nose at her master. Levi was dressed in his fine black trousers still, though his shirt was different and far less grand. He had his own trench draped over his shoulders. By his feet, a pot of tea rested alongside a cup. Steam curled over the cup's rim; freshly poured.

He looked up at her. Perhaps it was the single lantern flickering at his feet, casting its light upward, but he seemed so hollow now, and thin-cheeked. Without his gear, and his bravado, he was so very small.

"Ral. What're you doing up?" He didn't stand. He sounded as disinterested as if they'd never shared all that they'd experienced tonight. As if he'd never had her in his arms, whispering in his ear that he wanted to fuck her.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, and shut the door behind her. Levi said nothing, merely picked up his cup and sipped his tea. When his mare flipped her lip against his head, he reached up and stroked her nose. The horse blustered; Petra heard the happy swish of her tail.

Two years ago, she'd been in her own horse's stall, cleaning out the hooves and brushing her down. Petra had been kneeling in the straw when she heard the captain enter the stable. He didn't know anyone else was around when he began talking to his horse. Petra had listened, wide-eyed and unsure what to do.

"Yes, you're the prettiest horse around. No one's prettier than you." Levi had not said any of this in the baby talk voice many people used for their animals. He uttered it with all the conviction of direct orders given to his men in the heat of battle. "You've got the softest muzzle. You like your carrots. Yeah, that's right. Don't look at those other horses. They're just fuckin' jealous, because you're the prettiest. Yes you are." Soon after, the captain had left, and Petra had finally allowed herself to bury her face in her arms and howl in delighted laughter. That was when she learned that the captain, beneath all of his surliness, had a princely heart.

That was the moment she went from lust to love.

"Afraid I'm not much company. You should probably go back. People'll be up in a few hours." He sipped his tea once more, set it by his feet.

"Isn't it cold out here?" Petra's breath was visible as she asked. Levi shrugged.

"Helps me think."

"About what?"

He looked at her from underneath furrowed brows. "Thought we agreed we didn't want a talk."

"I…" There was no good way to answer that. "I was cold, and I was tired. After everything that'd happened, I—"

"Look. No hard feelings. We said everything we needed to say at the carriage." He sipped again. "But if you're a sucker for punishment, here goes." He looked her straight in her eyes. His gaze held nothing. "I'm too old for you. I'm your superior officer. Those are two very good reasons not to take this any further."

"And you don't like me?"

"I'm attracted to you. That should be obvious." Every word was delivered with a hammer's precision. "I like you as a person. Mix that up, and things get confusing. But I don't wanna make an honest woman out of you."

During this, Petra had searched his eyes for some crack. Some hint that he was begging her to contradict him. But there was nothing. The realization dawned then that he had not been lying to her back at the carriage. That he _had_ wanted to tell her it was over before it'd begun, and he was glad she agreed. Petra was standing outside of a locked door once more, worse now because she had been permitted a peek inside where everything was wonderful. But now, the door would never open again. She'd been judged unsuitable.

No. She had not. She was dealing with a master of survival, and he was daring her to contradict his nice, safe story.

"You liar," she whispered. Levi did not react. Petra felt the ground move beneath her feet; the thought bubbling up, begging to pass her lips, if she spoke it she would be dashing the heroic image of her captain to pieces, but…but… "You _coward_."

 _That_ got to him. His nostrils flared.

"You don't want to get into this with me, Petra. I will win."

"Win what?" She stepped nearer to him. To the right, the stables stretched on into darkness, the lantern's glow picking out the jeweled flash of a horse's eye, or the flap of an ear. But it was them, the two of them right now in this bubble of light, the only ones who mattered; they were on a dead planet, with only darkness and snow outside. "Is that how you see life? Winners and losers and nothing in between?"

"I can't help what the world is. Children pretend stones are jewels, soldiers are knights, and other bullshit like that. Are you a child, Petra?"

"Right now, I don't think I'm the one who's being childish."

She had stepped beyond the boundaries of anything they had ever said or done to one another before, even beyond the kissing. This was new ground for both of them, and they swayed back and forth, as if deciding whether to bolt or brave forward.

But the man Petra had wanted was _gone_ , had never even existed, and if she wanted him now, as he was…if she wanted to be with him…then the people they were to one another had to die. Tonight.

Levi slid fingers through his hair. He leaned his elbow on his knee, and cradled his forehead in his hand. In that moment, he looked more tired than she had ever seen him.

"I wish I could sleep."

"Oh." What could she say to _that_? "Maybe…you shouldn't drink tea, then?"

A snort of laughter from the captain.

"Nurse Petra." He rubbed his eyes. "I want to get drunk, but I can't. I want to sleep, but I can't. There's no escape for me, ever." His voice was soft and dull as he said, "I guess that's what death's for."

"Sir," she gasped.

"Relax. I don't think it's in my nature to kill myself. Fuck knows, I've thought about it a few times." He toasted her with his cup. "This turn you on, Petra? This what you want to saddle yourself with?"

He was a broken man, she realized. His strength was born out of pain. Any sensible person would tell her to walk out now, that a man like that would drag her down. There were others out there closer to her in age, in temperament, in beliefs. It would be easier for her not to love this man.

But.

She did love him. And you could not turn your back on love. If Levi were dangerous to her, if he would hurt her, that would be different. But he would never lift a finger against her; she knew that. And Petra could not know right now if eventually his personality would weary her, sink her into a bleak indifference alongside him. Make her come to hate him. Ruin everything they had built together, on his squad.

This was a risk she might not want to take.

But Petra did not live her life safely. She'd always been a bit wild, even before she saw the captain and her life changed forever. It did not matter what the world would say; to her, it mattered what she felt.

And for this man, she felt everything.

So she answered him.

"Yes. You're what I want to saddle myself with, sir."

Silence then, except the clop of a horse's hooves somewhere in the dark. Petra had an idiotic idea to make a joke about 'saddling' and 'stables', but she decided not to push her luck. Levi finally let out his breath.

"That's a very stupid answer."

"I've never claimed to be the smartest person."

"But you are smart. Too smart for this." He cleared his throat. His eyes were dead. "And I don't want you. I don't want a wife."

"I didn't say I wanted to be one."

He nearly spilled his tea. Setting the cup down, Levi glared at her.

"Then you want to be my whore? Is that it?" he growled.

"If those are the only two ways you see women, then I'm sorry for you." She would not back away. Levi rubbed his eyes. The cracks in his armor were showing.

"I don't think that, for fuck's sake. You want to be _lovers_ , that it? What do you think that'd be like? Hmm?" The captain finally stood, though he did not approach her. "Even if we could swing it with Erwin, what are you thinking? Can you even imagine what we'd do together?" His eyes, normally glacier cold, began to ignite. "If you knew the disgusting things I've wanted to do to you, you could never look at me the same way again."

Petra frowned. "Do you want to beat me? Do you fantasize about raping me, like Karl?"

He flinched. "Fuck no."

"Then I don't understand what's so wrong."

"Petra, you're innocent. You don't know the disgusting things that men want." He turned his face from her. "The way I've thought about your body is inhuman. You don't know what men and women do—"

"Excuse me?" Petra was too bewildered to use tact. She said simply, "I'm not a virgin, you know."

Levi appeared to process the information in steps. He froze, and his eyes darted to her, then to the floor, then back to her. If he hadn't looked so deathly grim, it would have been funny.

"Ah," he said at last. Petra crossed her arms.

"Captain. Does that make you want me less?"

"No," he said at once.

"What did you want to do to me, then?" she whispered. Slowly, she approached him, though only by a step. "What's so inhuman?"

For a moment, Levi was still as stone. She wondered if he might not speak again.

"When I think about touching you, I just think of your body. I don't… I want to… Sex is… Um. Unsanitary," he said at last. He began to breathe heavily; clearly, he did not know how to express himself. An idea began to dawn in Petra's mind.

"How many women have you slept with, sir?" she asked quietly.

"How many men for you?" he returned, eyes narrowing. Fine. She'd humor him.

"Two."

"Really." His lips turned down in a grimace. "Do I know them?" he growled.

"What about you?" Petra asked. "I answered for you. Would you please do the same?"

"Captain."

"Captain."

Levi jutted his jaw, and paused. "None," he said at last. He grunted the word.

As she'd suspected. Petra smiled in relief.

"Then you don't know how good it can be!"

"Has it been so good for you?"

Petra thought of closing her eyes and wishing it to be over already as a man fucked her. She'd ridden on top of them—and they were good boys, it wasn't their fault—and while riding, she'd tried to picture the captain's face, or tell herself a story. She did not hate sex, but to her it had held the erotic value of combing her hair. Sometimes after making love she would walk to the edge of the training dormitories, or the Survey Corps barracks, and cry. Maybe what she wanted did not exist. Maybe she was frigid.

But five seconds in the captain's arms and she had known that it was possible to want somebody as desperately as you wanted air.

"It will be with you."

Levi's expression slackened, and for the first time since she had known him she saw a kind of wistful hopefulness in his gaze. Petra came nearer, but he held up a hand.

"No." He locked that hope away. "No, Petra. I'm too old. I'm your captain. I don't want a wife, and I don't want to lead you on. I _want_ you, but I don't love you. Find a man who does."

Petra smiled then, and tears sped down her cheeks. She had never been so happy.

"Sir. You're a terrible liar." She approached him, and this time his hand fell.

"What makes you think that?" he growled.

"Because I know you," she said. "I don't think you're the type of man who could ever want somebody without loving them."

"That's wishful talk."

"All you have is love. You love every member of the Corps. Your horse. Your comrades, your subordinates. You just don't know how to show what you feel."

"I told you, I want your body. Nothing else."

"Then you can have it. I'll take whatever I can get from you."

He inhaled deeply. "You don't know—"

"I know what sex is. I can have that, if nothing else."

"No." His face collapsed, as if in pain. "That's wrong. Please."

"Why is it wrong, sir?" She reached for his hands, but he walked past her, picked up the lantern. He stood there, and gestured for the door.

"Go to bed, Petra. Now." His voice was flinty. "That's an order."

"Because you don't want to use me? But I told you it's all right."

"Go to bed, or I swear you're getting latrine duty."

"I offer you sex, and you tell me I need to scrub toilets?" Her brow wrinkled. "I don't understand."

"You need to obey me. I'm your commanding officer, Ral."

Petra's temper began to spark.

"All I did tonight was obey you, and look what happened to me!"

Levi froze. She watched him sink back inside of himself. Petra realized she had thrown her entire predicament at him, and he had accepted it. Added it to the load he was already carrying.

"That's why I don't want to be with you." He sighed. "I can't watch your feelings shrink when you realize what a goddamn useless piece of shit I am."

"You are the least useless man I've ever met."

"You've only met me in battle and training. I don't know anything but violence, Petra. It's how I talk. It's how I connect. I'm." He rubbed his face, set the lantern down. "I'm so fucking tired."

"Sir. I want to help you in any way I can." Petra sniffed; as fast as fury had come in, tears followed behind. "I don't want you to be alone."

"I'm better alone, Petra. No one gets hurt that way."

"That's not true."

"I'm asking you now because I mean it. Please go back to bed. There's nothing for you here." He turned from her then, and went to stand by the window. Leaning his elbows upon the sill, he gazed out into the wintry dawn. The sky had turned slate gray now; the pinks of the sun would follow soon. She should just leave. She could not force his confidence, or his affection, if he didn't want to give them. Petra brushed the tips of her fingers along Levi's horse's nose. She nickered in reply. As Petra began to walk, the captain grumbled behind her.

"She likes you."

Petra stopped, and closed her eyes. Gathering her courage, she turned.

"Do you want to know when I fell in love with you?" she whispered. The captain didn't flinch, or tell her to shut up. She went on. "It was in the stables. You didn't see me—you thought you were alone. So you started talking to your horse. You told her she was the prettiest; you were feeding her carrots. And you sounded so _stern_ about it." Petra giggled to remember. She couldn't help it. "At first, I'll be honest, I was embarrassed for you. I thought, how can this terrifying, godlike man possibly be such a soft touch with his horse? I thought it was childish." He did not respond, merely continued to stare at the snow. "But almost immediately, this amazing warmth filled my whole body. I realized you're the kind of man every person should want. You're so strong, but you're principled. You make everything spotless and orderly. You're the bravest man, and so hard to your enemies, but there was this gentleness in you that never went away. All the horrible things you must have faced never killed that kind of love. I realized then that that's who you really are. I would rather be with the man who praises his horse than some cold, perfect god." Petra wiped her eyes. "I don't know what happened to you, sir, and if you don't want to tell me that's fine. But I love you, and that's why I love you. And I don't think that's going to change. So good night." Her voice gave out, and Petra wheeled and went for the door. She put her hand on the knob.

"Wait." Levi's voice was a sharp command. Petra spun about, her heart beating fast.

"Yes?" she breathed.

He stood in the center of the stables, hands in his pockets. He regarded her with a predator's assessment.

"You didn't get to dance that waltz you love tonight, did you?"

"Um." Petra had not anticipated this. She tried to think up a response. "N-No, sir."

"What's it called?"

"The Marian?"

"Yeah. That. I'm sorry you missed it."

Petra shrugged. "Maybe next year, I suppose."

"We're Survey Corps, Petra. For us, there's no guarantee of next year."

"I suppose not."

"So." He nodded, and extended his hand. "You want to?"

"Do…I want to…?" He could not be asking what she thought he was asking. Could he?

"Eh, just a thought. Besides, you're in a nightgown. There are horses. No music. I understand if—" Levi began to retract his hand.

"Yes." She nearly tripped over her own feet as she walked back to him. "Th-Thank you, sir. I'd like to very much."

Levi sniffed. "Okay then. You're gonna have to remind me of a few steps. I can never remember the damn thing."

"The first part is easy." Petra's head seemed to spin; what was she doing now? Where was this going? Slowly, she took the captain's hand and placed it upon her waist. He held her closer, but kept a respectful distance between their bodies. Next, she took his other hand in hers, threaded their fingers together. Petra was now in a breathless daze. Hopefully she'd remember how to keep time. "One two three, one two three. You feel it?"

"Yeah. I got it. Er, which foot starts?"

She showed him, and then soon after they were dancing. They began slow, making certain that they did not bang into anything; there wasn't much light, after all, and they were in a stable. The horses watched with seeming interest as they began to turn around the space. Levi was nimble on his feet, more so than she'd ever expected.

"You're good at this," she whispered.

"Eh. I might've watched it a few times. It's a good dance." A pause as they spun. Then, "I might've watched you, that is."

Warmth bloomed in Petra's chest. She smiled.

"Oh."

The dance continued. There was nothing physical on this earth, it seemed, that he could not do better than anyone else. As they continued, Petra whispered.

"We're coming up on the lifts." She could hear the lilting violins rise and fall; it was as if her heart were keeping time. "Are you ready?"

"You're not hard to lift, Ral."

He gripped her by the waist and spun her through the air. One two three, one two three, and again. When he set her down, she turned her back upon him. His hand was to go about her waist, and they were to make a few steps forward and backward. It was one of the more "sensual" parts of the dance. With Gunther, Petra and he had giggled so much they'd nearly fallen out of step. There was no giggling now.

When Levi's arm wrapped around her waist and held her close against him, it was as if he'd whispered something warm and intoxicating into her ear. Petra shuddered, tilted her head back and closed her eyes. His cheek came against hers, his breath was on her neck. They moved together.

The captain was not a man for words, but for action. His touch and his embrace told her everything she needed to know. Everything she'd hoped.

Back and forth, his arm around her waist. _I need you, Petra._

Spin around, lift into the air. _I will care for you, Petra._

Then, returned to earth, came the most romantic move of the dance. The woman snaked her arm around the gentleman's neck and pulled their faces close. He tucked her against his body, holding her by the waist once again. Normally, the male partner was taller and the move required a bit of work on one or the other's part. But Levi and Petra were only an inch separated in height. Petra wrapped her arm around his neck, and he cradled her. They spun then, noses barely an inch from one another, staring into each other's eyes.

 _I love you, Petra._

His touch, his look, they spoke what his tongue couldn't. Petra continued spinning long after they'd stopped in the middle of the floor. For a minute, they only breathed.

"So. Was there more to the dance?" Levi asked.

"Probably."

He pulled her closer to him, and Petra let her hands float down to his shoulders. Tentatively, she leaned forward an inch and ghosted her nose against his. An affectionate bump, an exploratory mission. When she pulled back, he briefly smiled.

"Little tease," he said. Then, his hands sliding up and down her back, he said, "You were beautiful tonight." She thrilled at the words as he pressed his cheek against hers and whispered into her ear. "You're beautiful now." Petra's entire body hummed in anticipation. She could not believe any person could experience this much happiness. "Am I doing this right?" he murmured.

"Perfectly." She pressed her lips to his temple briefly, and he gave a shuddering breath in reply.

"This may not work. You may get tired of me."

"It may not work. But I want to take that chance." She looked into his thin, gray eyes. "Do you?"

"Unfortunately, I think I have to." He shook his head. "I don't want any regrets."

With that, he took her face into his hands, and his thumbs traced across her cheeks, wiping the tears away. He brought her close, and pressed his lips to her forehead. He kissed her closed eyelids, and then the tip of her nose. Petra sighed as his lips traced her temple to her cheek. He grunted as he tasted the path of her tears.

"Is this all right?" he whispered.

"Yes, sir." She gasped as he brought his mouth to hover over hers.

"Levi," he whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. "Just Levi."

"Levi," she moaned, and he kissed her. Petra's body was on fire once again, but it was a mellower flame this time. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply in return. The kisses this time were slow, as if they were savoring each other. When one long kiss ended, she would quickly place a smaller one on his bottom lip. He smiled, a quirk, and then kissed her again. He alternated kissing her lips with her forehead, her hand, her cheek. She trailed her fingers along his undercut, reveling in the ticklish hairs. She moaned against his lips, and he responded in kind, but this time there was no groping. After a few minutes, she broke the kiss and placed her forehead against his, holding him close. His hands rested on her waist. They swayed back and forth, lost in one another.

The embrace in the tree had been fueled by sex. This was tempered by love.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered.

"Um. Good." Pause. "Really, really good." The captain made an uncomfortable noise. "You know I'm no good with this talking shit, Petra."

She grinned.

"That's one of the reasons I like you. Your honesty. Well." She kissed his lips again. They were thin, and a bit rough, but tender with feeling. "What would you like to do now?"

His breathing hitched.

"I don't. Want. To pressure you."

"I don't want to pressure you, either." She kissed him again, tasted the tea on his lips. "But if you're worried, I am very ready to go as far as you'd like."

He pressed her close. She felt the thundering of his heart.

"If it's too fast," she began, but he cut her off.

"People will be up soon. That's the thing."

"I understand."

"But." He grunted. "I want to tell Erwin about this. It's not right to sneak around."

She tightened her embrace. "Yes."

"If someone did walk in on us, well, it's not like we've got anything to hide."

"No," she whispered. She did not want to tell him that the idea of being underneath him sent a deep, hot throbbing through the core of her body, to pulse right between her legs. She would go absolutely insane if he took her to the brink and then…

"I know this is probably the dumbest fucking thing I'll ever say," he growled, then kissed her. The kiss was deep, his tongue thrusting against hers. Her nipples beaded, her legs trembled. "But will you come back to my room?"

"Yes, Levi," she said.

They made their way together across the snowy courtyard, and slipped through the inn's front door. After the chill of the stables, Petra shivered in relief to be inside. Already, they could hear voices calling to one another from the darkened staff corridors. They crept lightly up the stairs. Petra was half afraid they'd meet an early riser from the Corps looking for the bathroom. Thankfully, no one interrupted them as they made their way to Levi's door. He slid the key into the lock, and opened.

"After you," he murmured. Petra walked into his room, and he shut the door behind them. She heard the lock turn, and smiled.

This was it. Her heart began to pound as she turned to face him. What if…what if he did not like the way she looked? What if she frightened him with her forwardness? Levi seemed to not know what to do either, because he kept his back pressed to the door. In the murky dawn light, they could only barely see one another.

Drawing in a breath, Petra undid her trench coat. She shivered in her thin flannel nightgown as she folded the trench over the side of an armchair. Her boots and socks followed, and she placed them next to the coat. In the dim light, her white gown seemed to glow.

"You look." Levi swallowed; his voice sounded hoarse. He didn't continue.

Petra undid the top buttons. No time to stand on ceremony. She looked in his eyes, and slid the gown from her shoulders, letting it pool around her feet. She stood, utterly naked, before him.

Levi took a loud, shaky breath. Petra slung the nightgown over the chair's arm as well. Already, her naked body rippled with gooseflesh. She flung the blankets aside—the bed was pristine, unslept in. The captain, after all, did not sleep. She got under the covers, and sat up, the sheets tucked around her breasts. She shivered a bit, because the bed was like ice. It needed the warmth of a human body. Bodies, if possible. Levi took a few faltering steps towards her.

"We don't have to do anything," Petra whispered. She felt her cheeks heat up. "All I want is to lie here with you. If that's all you can do, it's more than enough."

"Petra." He reached out and touched her cheek. She kissed his palm, and then he undressed. He took off his coat first, and slung it over the footboard. His boots came next. Then, with a hushed intake of breath, he pulled his shirt up over his head. Petra got to her knees in rapt attention. She could not see him perfectly, but the sculpted definition of his chest, and the detail of his abdominal muscles did not require a hard light to pick out. Levi put that shirt and his trousers on the footboard as well. Then, though he swayed for a moment in doubt, he removed his underwear, and got into bed beside her.

Petra swallowed; her throat was dry. She placed a hand upon his chest, over his thudding heart. She nestled closer to him. Levi kissed her temple, her nose, and then her lips. Each kiss sweetly built upon the one that came before it. They found a rhythm all their own, as perfect as their dancing had been in the stable. He took her into his arms. Their chests were pressed close together, and he moaned at the feel of her breasts.

"It's all right. It's at your pace," she whispered. Then she lay down.

In the beginning, he paid rapturous attention to her breasts. Though he paused to find the bandage at the top of her left breast—Karl's parting gift to her, the bruise and swell of his teethmarks hidden beneath it. She was afraid the sight would put him off, but the captain merely kissed her, and returned to his work. He licked her nipples into firm peaks, bit down upon them, and sucked. She stroked her hands through his hair as he explored her, eyes closed and moaning in delight. It was impossible that anything could feel this good. She was so heavy and slick between her legs that she knew she would have to find release before this was over, even if she had to do it herself. She hoped she wouldn't have to.

Then Levi returned to her mouth, and kissed her with such ferocity that she barely found space to draw breath. He kept her on her back, his left hand cupping her breast. He traced his thumb around and around her nipple while he bit down on her lip. Petra let one hand stroke through his hair, while the other traced its way up and down his arm. It was steely with muscle; she couldn't imagine a harder material on earth. Desperate to feel more of him, Petra groaned and rolled onto her side. She lined her body up with his, slung her leg over his legs and pressed herself along him. His erection pulsed against her groin. Levi made a hushed, choking sound at the feel of her sex flush on his.

"Is it all right?" Petra whispered against his mouth.

"Petra. Will you do something?" he rasped.

"Anything."

"Touch me. Please."

"Where?"

"Everywhere," he groaned.

Petra placed her hand upon his chest again, feeling the quick beat of his heart. Her fingers skimmed along, sliding through the light dusting of hair. She flattened her palm against the other side of his chest, felt his nipple hard and peaked beneath her palm. Levi's head tilted backwards. His eyes were closed, his lips parted. Petra cupped his throat, stroked her thumb along the underside of his chin. She skated her palm along his collarbone, then took a trip along the firm line of his body. As she touched his stomach—the muscles there as solid and impossibly exquisite as the rest of him—she smiled as he gave a faint ghost of a laugh.

"Are you ticklish, sir?"

"I honestly don't know."

The raw honesty with which he said it stole all her humor away. This man…he didn't know what he liked. Being tickled. Being held. Being touched. They were all alien sensations to him. Tears pricked her eyes, but Petra forced them back.

"I'll be gentle," she whispered. He smiled, a flash of teeth.

"Not too gentle, I hope."

"We'll see." Petra continued her exploration along the ridges of his abdominal muscles. She traced her finger along the thin line of dark hair that began at his navel, and ended in the dark thatch on his genitals. Petra took a deep, calming breath as she neared the moment she'd dreamed of since she was a teenage girl. "Yes?" she asked.

"Fuck yes."

She took his cock in her hand, and squeezed gently. He was silk and steel, his length throbbing under her touch. Levi's hips jerked, his entire body practically vibrating.

"No one's ever touched you here?"

"You're the first," he gasped. Petra gave him one, then two good strokes before moving on to cup his balls in her hand. She trailed a thumb along the line of his cock, enjoying the way he shivered in response. Idly, she thought of taking him into her mouth and sucking him to a climax, but she was not sure if that was too far and too fast. She loved being gentle with him; the power that he gave her, and the trust, was intoxicating.

"You're bigger than I thought you'd be," she whispered.

"That's the best news I've had in months."

Petra kissed his cheek, then slid her hand along the bump of his hip. She explored his legs, passing her palms along the sheer perfection of their development. Petra grinned to feel the forest of coarse hair that covered them. There was something so other about a man's body that excited her beyond measure. She moved up the back of him, stopping to grab his ass once more, her fingers teasing the dimples at the end of his spine. He was rock hard in her grip. Levi gave a laugh. It was short, and rather harsh.

"You're a pretty daring little thing, aren't you?" He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then grazed his teeth along her earlobe. Petra gasped; she clenched between her thighs.

"You don't get the things you want by behaving properly," she whispered. She skated her hand up his back, then gripped his shoulder. They kissed. She dug her nails into him, and he hummed in appreciation. Levi's arms wrapped tight around her, and he lined her up flush with his own body. Then, he rolled her over onto her back, and brought the weight of his body down upon her. Petra gasped and arched; his cock brushed against her sex for one instant, and it was like a bolt of lightning going through her brain. She wept with the pleasure. Levi propped himself onto his elbows above her.

"How wet are you?" he marveled.

"I've never been this aroused in my life." She had said this would be at his pace, but she could not help how desperate he'd made her. "Please, Levi."

He ran his hand over the hills of her breasts again, then touched her sternum, her stomach, the hair of her sex, and then…then…

"Oh," she moaned as his hand cupped her. With a grunt, he slid a finger inside of her. It passed in seamlessly. Levi choked on a breath.

"It's. Fuck. You're perfect," he grunted.

Petra began to rock back and forth against his hand. Levi curled his finger inside of her, which made her shiver. Her heart pattered wildly in her chest; she was going to explode if he didn't make her come. Levi tried to accommodate her, pressing his fingers in different places around her cunt.

"I'll show you. Like this." She reached down and grabbed his hand. Taking his fingers, she positioned them right at her clit. "Stroke me there. Yes. Like that. _Oh._ " Petra leaned her head back against the pillows as he began to circle her in precisely the right spot. She began to whimper—she had no shame. "Yes, Levi. Oh, I'm going to— _Fuck."_

Petra thrust her pelvis against him, stars and supernovas clustering at the edges of her vision. She was about to come. She grew sensitive as anything at that one little spot in the apex of her thighs. Stroke. Stroke. _Slick, slick, slick_. His fingers made the most delightful noise as he picked up the pace. Levi lay on top of her, his breathing harsh.

"Look at me," he growled. Petra opened her eyes, clawing her fingers into the mattress. He stared down at her, his teeth bared, his eyes as cold as if he were making a kill on the battlefield. She knew him well enough to realize that it was concentration: he was going to bring down his quarry. "Do you like it?"

"Oh, I love it. I love it more than anything." Petra felt she could say any words at this moment. She wondered if this was what losing your mind felt like. "I want to come for you. Ah. Ah!"

"Say my name when you come." He took his fingers away, and grazed a knuckle up and down the sensitive nub of her clit. "Petra. Say it."

"Oh. Levi. Levi! Oh!" The world went away all around her, and Petra jerked, her body shivering through and through as she rode the waves of her orgasm. He crushed her against him as he fell on top of her. Petra's body became limp, the muscles deep inside of her contracting as her pleasure crested and rolled through her. Levi kissed her deeply. She dug her nails into his shoulders, wrapped her legs around him. He grunted as he hoisted himself further up her, his cock bumping right up against her sex. Yes. Yes. "Do you want to?" she asked.

"I want it. I want you." He snarled, kissed her, kissed her between her breasts. "Petra. What do I do?"

She reached down and positioned him at the entrance to her sex. Her legs wrapped tighter, her arms looped about his neck. She kissed him again, humming against his lips.

"All you need to do is push," she whispered.

Levi paused then, gazing down at her. Their hearts beat in frantic unison as he gripped her hands and placed them at either side of her head. His fingers twined with hers. They were now clinging tight to one another.

"Just don't let me go," he said hoarsely.

"I won't. Not ever." And then, summoning all the courage her ecstasy had given her, "I love you."

He moaned, and shivered atop her.

"Oh. Petra. I." He kissed her once more, and then shoved forward. He glided into her body, filling her beautifully. Levi shuddered as he entered her, his hands gripping hers painfully tight. But she didn't let go. She squeezed back as hard as he did. Well, not quite as hard. His hands were stronger, after all.

But she could last longer.

His breath was hot and fast against her neck. Petra lay there, waiting for him to get himself under control. He did after a moment, and kissed her.

"Did you come?" she whispered.

"No. But. I don't know how long I'm gonna last." He winced, and looked away from her. "This may disappoint you."

"Look at me," she murmured. When he caught her gaze, he got to see that tears streaked from her eyes. "This is the happiest I've ever been. This is going to be perfect, because it's you. Don't worry about anything." She cupped the back of his head, his undercut bristling against her palm. She kissed him. "This is all for you, Levi. All of me is for you."

He kissed her tears.

"I have something shitty to tell you," he muttered.

Petra frowned.

"What?" she asked as he loomed overhead, eyes locked with hers.

"I love you," he growled, and thrust inside of her.

So this was what it felt like. Levi had spent time wondering, in the loneliness of his room, his hand running over his cock, how slimy it would be between Petra's thighs. He remembered listening to the sick, sucking noises that came from his mother's bed during her visits with clients. As he'd gotten older, Levi had closed his hands over his ears. That was where the idea was formed that kissing made him want to vomit.

He'd been sure Petra would be sloppy down there, the slime of her body coating him. Pulling him deep inside of her, as if trying to devour him.

She was wet, yes, but warm. He'd never imagined it could be so warm inside of a woman. Soft, too. Her body rippled around his, swaddling him and welcoming him. As he thrust into her for the first time, their bodies made that wet, smacking sound. But it was perfect; nothing had ever felt so right. Levi kissed her, his tongue greedily stroking against hers.

He propped himself up again, and looked at her face. Petra's cheeks were flushed, lines of spent tears still glistening from the corners of her eyes. Her lips, swollen with their passion, were parted. Her breasts, white and rose as he'd always envisioned them, heaved and fell beneath him. The wooly flame of her sex tickled his skin where they were joined.

He had always envisioned her as a celestial being, some goddess framed in colored glass in a church window. Untouched by man, unsoiled by the world. When he'd imagined fucking her, his goddess had transformed into a wanton temptress. Her gleaming eyes had become half-lidded, and she had licked her lips in stark lust.

But here she was, his angel, his goddess, with her innocent smile and eyes—and she had not been a virgin for him. But she was no less pure and perfect than he had ever pictured her. He sank into her again with silken ease, a shuddered breath escaping him as he felt her tighten around his cock. Petra was not a goddess or a demon, but a woman.

A woman who, for some damn reason, loved him.

"Oh. Levi," she murmured.

Their fingers entwined further. He eased backwards, pulled out of her a bit.

"Hold on," he grunted. He thrust again, filling her to the hilt. Petra arched her back, gasping with pleasure. Levi didn't quite know how hard or fast he should go, so he began to rock back and forth at an unsteady pace. Petra's legs tightened around his body, and she encouraged him.

"Faster. There. Mmm, yes. Good. So good. Oh!"

He began to thrust in perfect time, his teeth clenched, breath hissing out as he fucked. Sometimes he leaned down and kissed her, tasted the sweetness of her lips. For the most part, he relished the way her silken thighs tightened around him. He watched as her brow furrowed, as her mouth formed a perfect little O. The bed groaned beneath them, the springs squealing as he thrust. Again. Again. Again.

And amid the greatest happiness he'd ever known came the greatest fear alongside it, the dark shadow of euphoria.

He had taken this girl into his bed, his heart. She could hurt him now, whether she left him or died on his watch. He had suffered so much loss and parting; how could he find a way forward if he lost this, too? The thought was almost enough to make him soft. Petra seemed to sense it, because she squirmed underneath him.

"Levi? What's wrong?"

"I can't lose you." He paused, feeling drops of sweat sting his eyes. He shook his head. "I can't trust that I won't."

Petra kissed his forehead, and then cupped his cheeks in her hands. She wedded her gaze with his. Her own wide, beautiful, amber-colored eyes seemed to spark in the early morning light.

"I won't ever leave you without a hell of a fight first," she said. She pressed her thumb to his lips.

"Good. You fight harder than almost anyone I've ever met." He smiled quickly. "Damn brat."

She pulled him down onto her body, clung to him. They kissed for several minutes, until he grew hard again. This time, he did not stop. He thrust into her, and she swiveled her own hips to push against him. Levi groaned.

"Fuck, that's good. Keep doing it. Oh." The bed began to wail beneath them, and whoever was murmuring in the hall right now, padding to the bathrooms, had to hear them. But so what? Let the world know. This woman was his. His. Levi got on his elbows again, his hips pistoning faster. Petra's breasts quivered with the violence of his thrusts. She tilted her chin back, gripping the pillow behind her head. She thrust against him, the wet sounds of their joining so audacious and erotic that Levi could feel his end rushing towards him. "I'm going to come," he choked out.

"In me. Please," she moaned, digging her nails in furrows down his arms. Petra's lips parted, and she gave a breathy sigh. "You're amazing."

"Petra." His hips began to move faster than he could control them. Her pussy clenched tight around him as the world expanded in white hot light, and he came deep inside of her. "Ah! Fuck!"

He rode through his climax inside of her body, and finally came to a rest on top of her. His cock began to soften, but he loved the warm, snug feel of her. When he tried to pull out, she kept her legs locked tight around his waist. Petra embraced him, kissed him.

"Please, not yet. Stay inside for a bit."

"All right." Levi lay on top of her, and felt the reassuring thud of her heart as it began to slow down. The dawn had crept through his window, and a few stripes of golden light stretched over them. The morning sun streaked across Petra's face, turning her peach and cream and fire. The sun had fully risen; the long, dark night had ended. He kissed her, savored the feel of her. Petra hummed in her throat, and kissed his cheek, his nose, his forehead. She traced the outline of his face with her lips.

"I don't ever want to forget this moment," she breathed. Levi kissed the hollow of her throat.

"Hope that…made up for the rest of an otherwise shit night," he muttered at last. Petra burst out laughing, giggling as he cursed and slapped a hand over her mouth. "People are gonna wonder who the fuck's in here," he growled. There were things he wanted to ask her; did she want to tell Erwin before they rode for home, or did she want to wait until they were back at the barracks. What would she do if she had to be reassigned? Whose squad would she pick?

But those thoughts seemed so minor right now compared to this. Levi looked into her eyes, and smiled.

She had all of her make up off, and she'd come to him in a white flannel gown and a military trench coat. But she'd looked as beautiful to him then as when she'd been dressed up in that green puff of a dress. She was pure and sexual at the same time. It was as if they'd left the insanity of Morgenstern's mansion, with the debauchery, the loveless fucking, the exchange of favors and bodies, and come here to sex that was almost holy.

He had not dirtied Petra. She had cleansed him.

"Levi?" She smiled that coy little smile she gave when she was trying to get away with something. "Happy birthday," she whispered.

His eyebrows lifted.

"Mmm?"

"I know that you probably didn't want to tell us or anything, but… I saw the document with your birth information in the Commander's office once. I couldn't help myself." She kissed him. "Today is December 25th. So. Happy birthday, Levi."

He covered her body with his, and let her feel his smile against her cheek.

"Thank you, Petra. Thank you."

The End


End file.
